Lirouratr
by Maireh
Summary: If Murtagh had been born a girl: what difference would it make in the downfall of The Empire and the dark King who reigns over it?
1. Chapter 1

_______I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
_However, my bother and I own this story; t_his story came to life when my brother and I were on a walk. We were talking about how one small or big detail can change a whole history and my brother jokingly said that it would be funny to see the events of what would happen if Murtagh were a girl. After we talked about for a while and all the changes that could be made, we came to realize we had created a story of sorts. And so this is the result. I hope you enjoy the first chapter and please tell me what you think.  
**Edit**-June 7, 2013-This chapter has been rewritten and is different than its original version._

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**A Gift**

The pearls set into in the adorned silver combs were, perhaps the biggest illusion of all. Rose loathed having to look at them and she wished almost desperately for her needlework or a book, anything was better than have to look at those combs. It made her feel quite ill, there was a dangerous twisting that miffed her belly and dizzied her mind.

There was a hard wrenching jerk that pulled her head back, and she heard her hair breaking as it lost its battle to the rough bristles of the brush. Her hands twitched and she closed her eyes, biting her bottom lip to keep from crying out. Rose dearly wished that this task would be over soon as her body ached from tiredness and she yearned to crawl back between the folds of her blankets. She shuffled a yawn and the woman behind her tisked irksomely.

In the distance there was an unforgiving scream, rather it was a squeal of delight or one of grief or pain, it was enough to startle both Rose and the servant behind her. The small, soft hands of the woman brushing through her hair unexpectedly yanked on her head firm enough to pull more than a few hairs, making her yelp in pain. She felt her hair tumble down onto her back adding an extra weight to her head.

"Forgive me," said the woman.

_You truly should stop thinking of her as merely 'the woman' or 'the servant,' it's very ill becoming of you_, Rose chided herself. After all, the woman had a name, Rose had yet to meet someone who did not, and she had known this woman for quite some time. Though it was so much easier not to give the woman a name, this way when she did, in fact, leave as Rose was sure she would, there would not be as much anguish.

Rose sighed before she could stop herself and the woman behind her stiffened. "There is nothing to forgive," said she, leaning back into the woman's midriff.

She was so very sleepily. The memories of her dreams the night before seemed to be screaming at her, willing her to remember them; white, boney hands reaching out of the darkness, reaching for her, grasping the air with long crooked finger, she had been running from hands but they were never far behind taunting her. By a hair width, she was out of their clutches but not far enough to break free of them. They would close once more and the long, yellowed fingernail would snap together and she would feel them touch the ends of her hair, just barely behind her-

There a deafening scream echoing throughout the stone walls. She sat up suddenly awake, looking around franticly with her eyes. Taking a strangled breath she forced herself to calm down, it was not an easy task and she took to focusing on the woman's task through the looking glass.

The servant had continued to weave her hair high upon her head without her noticing, and she had been forced to sit back up. The woman was fitting those ghastly small silver combs in between the many plaits of her dark hair, and Rose tried very not to twitch as her stomach's acrobatics intensified. The servant worked quietly as if to make the screaming from within the castle more evident, and much more unbearable. As the servant fit the last pin into the mass of braided hair she caught Rose staring.

Rose quickly looked down, a rush of blood burned her cheeks like flames.

The woman swooped down next to Rose and took her chin into her scared hands, tilting her face up into the light forcing the young lady to look up into the mirror. "There is nothing vainglorious about admiring yourself," she said, leaning her chin over Rose's shoulder. "The trick is in not letting others catch you in the act."

Rose looked her reflection- was she really that dreadfully pale? It was a displeasing sight to see, and she quickly looked away and studied the woman. She smiled, and hesitantly Rose smiled back. A piece of the woman's silken brown hair had fallen into face, hiding her eyes. The woman had a lovely face; kind and merry and wise, yet sad. Rose often saw the woman look on with a heartrending expression, and she often wondered what caused it.

Yet, another scream broke the air, and the servant dropped her chin and backed away a bit, wiping her hands on her dress as they were dirty. "Do you think the hairpins suit you?" said the woman, stepping further away. "Or do you wish for me to remove them?"

Rose bit her lip. She would like it very much for the combs to be removed but the woman had work quite hard to place them into her hair, and she did not wish to sit there any longer. "They are very fitting," said she, shifting in her seat at the lie. "Thank you kindly, Ailis." Though she knew the woman's name she took a moment to think of it as she slowed by her blankening tiredness.

"You're welcome, miss," said Ailis.

Rose made a face. "I wish for you to call me Rose." The words were out of her mouth before she could stop them. Ailis looked at her with wide brown eyes, and Rose wished she could kick herself but instead she vowed to get more sleep that night. "I'm tiring of these formalities," she amended with another lie. She had lost count on how many lies she has told lately though she knew there was quite a lot. "You are one of the few people I see these days, and it's becoming rather uninspiring to only be called 'miss,' or 'lady.' I fear I may forget my name if things continue in this circumstance."

Ailis' brown eyes flashed, and her face became as impassionate as stone. "As you wish," said she without the slightest hint of emotion. She then excused herself to continue with her other various duties.

Solemnly, Rose watched her leave before moving to her bed. She picked up a thick book, with decorated cover of mother-of-pearl and gold leaf edging, it was the very same book she had discarded the night before. She flipped through the thick, ivory pages until she came across the place where she had stopped. Not bothering to move as she did not feel the liveliness to do so, she sunk down onto the floor, her dark gown bellowing around her form. She sat there, on the rugged floor searching for answers she knew she would not find.

This had become an unbreakable habit of Rose's as of late, she would sit and search in vain in hundreds of books until her eyes would burn red and salty tears fell down her cheeks from unrest. At night she would get very little sleep for her mind searched for only the answers she sought, this left her with dark half circles under her eyes. In the morning, Ailis would tut over her state and raise various questions about her health before cautioning her to get more rest until she was blue in the face, only to do the same thing the next morning. Rose, however, found her less than pleasing state to be a sound excuse, so that if need be she could excuse herself from a number of unpleasant meetings.

Her bedchamber was a neat disarray of books and scrolls, many of which belonged to the castle's library, though it quite likely they would return to their proper home any time soon. A fire flickered in the grate and through an arched window; the bubbling voices of a fountain could be heard. A bed draped with a brocaded cover stood in the corner and near it, a lush arm chair burdened with heavy books faced the heavy oak door. Colored perfume bottles of all shapes and sizes sat across a long, thin table with a wood framed mirror and a hard stool, the very one Rose had sat on earlier, was tucked underneath the table. An intricately carved wooden chest for clothing was pushed to the far wall.

Rose was eighteen years of age, with wavy dark brown hair, that fell past the small of her back, that was held back in plaits and gold combs. Her grey eyes were fierce, lined by dark eyelashes that were enhanced by blackened kohl. She was medium height with a slender build and long, thin fingers. At the collar of her gown, a hint of a twisting scar could be seen at the start of her shoulder blade. The person who gave her this scar was the very reason she revoked her birth name, insisting that she be called 'Rose,' after her mother's favorite flower, a mother who had died when she was at a soft, tender age.

Though Rose did not remember much of her parents, what she did remember was a confusing collection of emotions and incomplete images that intertwined like an half finished tapestry; a blood red blade twisting its way toward her small body, a burning pain across her back, dark hateful mismatched eyes of her father, harsh words and tender hugs. She could recall the clopping of her soled shoes as she ran across a cobblestoned garden lined with red and white roses, the sweet smell of honey and jasmine at night, the soft padding of her mother's footsteps, and great, sad sobs when she looked into glazed, sightless eyes-

She pinched herself in attempt to forget her train of thought. Closing the book, she tossed it onto her bed and moved on to the next one where she quickly lost herself in the intricate expressions of narrations.

It was only when a servant younger than Rose herself knocked on the door, well past mid day, did Rose put the book down. She stood up and called in the girl in. The girl stood in the doorway, looking rather harassed. Clumsily she curtsied, her hooded head bobbing. "Master Tornac requests your attendance in the drawing room of Solar, my lady." The girl said before curtsying once more and scurrying away.

_If Tornac is back then it is no wonder the girl was so distraught, _Rose thought, cheerfully jumping to her feet. She shook the fabric of her gown rustling the material until it was free of its creasing wrinkles, and once the stiff fabric were free of all imperfections, she walked out into the twisting stone maze that was the King's castle in Urû'baen. For the first time that day, she noticed that the screeching had ceased.

It took her twenty minutes of what felt like ceaseless wondering to come to the room in which the young servant had spoken of. Without knocking, Rose opened the thick door and walked into the high-ceilinged chamber with a gracefully curved mantel on one wall where a fire flickered. The dreary earthen walls were replaced with a soft yellow paint, and from the ceiling hung a silver lamp shaped like a lily that defused a gentle light. Comfortable high-legged chairs were arranged around the fireplace. An elegant bookcase filled with leather-bound books lined the wall opposite.

The only person in the room was Tornac, who stood facing the fire with his hands clasped behind his back. Tornac was stern-looking man with a scar across his cheek to his sharp nose which drew the skin tightly under his left eye which made his face unusually expressionless. When Rose had first met him, she was more than slightly frightened of him and would not say but a few words whenever she was in his presence. Now, however, after being away so long from the man she often thought of as her father, she couldn't help but smile widely and rush to embrace him. Startled by the unwarned passion, he rocked forth on his feet then turned and they properly embraced for a long moment.

At last they stood apart and studied each other's faces.

"I didn't think you would back so soon," she said. "Why are you back so soon?"

His eyebrows wiggled as he frowned, fighting each other across the bridge of his nose. "I will tell you as soon as you explain what has been distressing you so."

Rose shrugged, not willing to talk about her conflictions. "You have been harassing servants, again," she said, instead. "They are running wildly about the halls, wailing with madness and fear."

Tornac gave her a disbelieving look and shook his head. "That is not my doing," he said at last. He sighed, and took her shoulder in his hands so that he looked down at her. "We must talk. Over the past weeks I've had much time to think-"

"Do not do this," she said. "Please, I beg of you."

"And I have come to understand that the only thing that will calm your mind and lighten your heart is time," he continued as she had not spoken. She looked at him desperately and he dropped his hands to his sides. "However, depriving your mind of rest and your body of nutrients it so demands, cannot change past nor current events-"

"I don't know how much time I have," interrupted Rose again, turning away. "The King grows impatient." She was being bold disrupting him so, but she could not find it in herself to care.

Tornac stared into the fire for a long moment. "Let us not tally on this tonight," he said. "Come, sit. Tell me of what deeds have come to pass as I have been away."

He sat down on one of many soft plush chairs, and Rose sat across from him on a long bowed sofa.

"Not much has passed since. The only thing that comes to mind is rumors of a new Dragon Rider, which we both know is nigh impossible." Rose said, folding her hands in her lap.

"Aye, I have also heard such rumors."

Rose smiled. "You don't believe them to be true, do you?"

Tornac stirred and leaned forward to pour a glass of wine. "You know as well as I do that rumors of such are increasing in Alagaësia as of late," he said, handing a cold glass to her. "Certainly reports of attacks from the Varden and Urgals are more common, and there's famine and banditry and sickness in many regions. Some say these are but a part of the Cycle. Others say not. And more than that there are problems of a Shade and various stories of Dragon Riders: nothing concrete, but definite unease."

Rose took a small sip, the liquor burning her tongue and throat. "But you don't believe them to be true?" She repeated.

Tornac glared at her in annoyance. "Pull the cotton from your ears, girl!" He said, "Of course I do not believe such rumors, however, I am not fool enough to discard them without thought!"

Rose nodded, looking down at the straw colored cordial. They didn't speak, the crackling laugh of the fire seemed to forbid chatter. Rose reached forward and grabbed a candied chestnut from a crystal bowl. The sweeten chestnut was so tender it melted in her mouth.

"You're as white as a ghost," observed Tornac after a long silence. "Have you slept a wink, child?"

"I am not a child," said Rose, more sulkily than she intended.

Tornac chuckled humorlessly. "Not a child, indeed."

Rose looked away into the fire. "You are right. Please forgive my gracelessness," She said, the words burned in her throat. "I haven't slept well as of late."

"I can see that. Your ailment is the same as before?" He asked once more.

Rose nodded curtly, uncomfortable with where the conversion was going. "What happened while you were away?" She asked, besieging the chance to change the topic.

Tornac groaned and leaned heavily in this chair. "Nothing good, I'll tell you that. One day, everything is going as planned and the next a whole rank had fallen into madness. There was no time to think, only to act," he paused a far off look in his eyes. "Less than half of us made it to Gil'ead and even fewer came back. No one knows what to make of it, drug or poison that ails the mind, I know not."

"What business was there in Gil'ead?" Rose asked her interest perked.

Tornac gave her a hard, unyielding look and her shoulders dropped with disappointment. "I've blessed you with far more information than required of me. It is best if no more is said." His face softened and he said, "Now why don't you grace my ears with your playing, it is something I have long missed."

Rose started. Tornac knew as well as she that she had not an instrument to play and that her singing voice was that akin to the screeching of a great horned owl. However before she could resort, he bent down and pulled out a large cloth covered package. In a smooth motion he handed it to her, she took it carefully, not use to such gifts from the old swordsman. The package sat across her lap hanging little more than two feet off and it was as not as wide as her waist. Rose carefully undid the rough strings and unfolded the thick cloth, inside sat a viol.

This viol was a bowed musical instrument of dark yellow wood that sat on the lap or in between the legs when played, it was a rectangle that curved in halfway into its frame, a long polished neck ended in a fine curve that held seven strings that when struck with a bow made a pleasing sound, it had a flat back, and an integrant carved pattern that sat under the strings. It was truly a beautiful piece of work.

"I happened to come across it in a small village, the poor merchant who owned it had the bad luck of ignorance as to what treasure he held. I pray you still have your old bow, else I'll have search for one which would be a long and pitiless." Tornac said.

Rose frowned, looking at the seven strings on the viol. She did not know how play this viol. She inclined her head to the swordsman. "This is grand gift, Tornac. I cannot thank you enough."

"And, yet?" Tornac said watching her reaction.

"I'm afraid I do not yet know how to play with seven strings." She said.

Tornac nodded, understanding the problem, "Come to me when you know and I'll listen then."

Rose smiled and nodded, the movement made her dizzy. It was because of Tornac she had acquired such a taste for musical instruments. He was the one to introduced her the bard Brage, who took the hardy task of teaching her to play the stringed instrument. It did not come naturally to her and she began to loathe the time she spent with the bard, until one winter day when she found she took pleasure in the challenge. Since that time, she spent much of her leisure time playing songs in her chambers, when her mind became too conflicting to do anything except for it, until seven months ago when her viol cracked and became unplayable.

"I'll come to you then." Rose said, happy to have such a test to face.

"I will wait eagerly until such a time passes," Tornac said grimly, as he stood. His old bones cracking like the fire. "Now, I'm afraid that I must excuse myself as I am quite weary."

Rose stood as well. "Rest well, Tornac."

"And you." He said, clasping his large hand on her shoulder.

Together they walked out and went their separate ways. It with a shock that it was almost nightfall and having not eaten anything that day, Rose made her way to kitchens, hugging the viol close to her chest. After reaching the large kitchens and charming a meal out of the cooks, which she ate hastily, she made her way back to her chambers.

While traversing the curving maze-like halls, Rose came across the sound of voices in one of the many stone walled rooms that were never used. Curious, she stopped to listen.

"-but, alas, such has been your fate." A deep voice of a man said, it was familiar and Rose knew who was talking instantly.

"I regret running into you at such a time, my friend." A soft almost melodious voice of a woman replied. "These halls are not as grand as the laymen say they are."

"It would certainly seem that way," said the male. "What has brought you forth?"

Rose, entranced, stepped closer to the closed door.

"Ill tidings. My warder has accessed the need of gems for their jewellery and I insisted on playing a part," said the woman sharply.

"Still on that, are you?" The man said.

"Aye." the woman took a deep breath and said something that Rose couldn't make out and then, "a storm is coming, old friend, and I'm afraid I have not the shelter to weather such a tempest." The loud creaking of leather boots hitting the stone floor.

Rose, flicked a piece of hair off her forehead. Nothing of what they said made sense.

"I must go," said the woman.

Rose squeezed the instrument closer to her and she slowly walked backwards to the nearest corner, careful to make no sound.

"As must I," the deep voice of the man said. "However I need know when the storm will land."

Footsteps padded closer to the door.

"Two days time," the woman answered.

With the corner only a few feet away, Rose picked up her pace.

"I'll see to it that I shall be ready."

The creaking sound of the door opening startling Rose and she turned on her heel and ran around the corner, her loud footsteps echoing behind her. With a deep breath she peeked over the corner.

"Do you believe someone heard us?" Tornac asked his shaggy white hair falling into his blue eyes.

Ailis looked up at him, her face twisted in a way that Rose had never witnessed. "Nay, someone did hear us. Tread carefully, Tornac," she warned before turning away, her white and purple skirts billowed behind her, like dark storm clouds.

Rose didn't wait for Tornac to find her and so she turned and ran, her heart pounding uncontrollably in her chest. Had anyone seen her, she would no doubt be the subject of gossip for the next week for running about the halls not unlike a savage boar. She tried not to pay attention to the Court and what they thought any mind, yet it did not stop her from blushing madly with a young group of girls watched her as she charged past them in slack-jawed mirth. She felt like cursing, and as soon as she turned the corner she slowed to a steady walk. She still had quite a ways to go before she would reach chambers and the hair combs were truly beginning to pull at her hair. With a vow to pull them out from the tangles of her tresses, she walked on at a brisk pace.


	2. Chapter 2

_____________I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.  
_Before you read: I will never update this quickly again. I only did because I have this sort of pact to post the first two chapters together and I can't stand just having one. I'm not completely happy with this chapter but I cannot find a way to edit it or turn it completely over, so here it is. Murtagh and Rose are two different people, please keep this in mind. Keep in mind that in Alagaesia women where thought to be the "lesser gender" and thus girls were offend thought not speak their mind.  
As always enjoy, and please if you can spare a moment write a review and tell me what you think.  
This chapter has been editted on 4-15-13.  


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**Escape**

Little took place in the two days since Rose had fled into her chamber after overhearing Ailis' and Tornac's conversation. She had spent the rest of that evening, participating in the baffling task of unscrambling the riddles of words she heard and it was only when she resolved that she would find out in two days time, that was she able to settle her puzzled mind.

The day following Rose's eavesdropping, she learned that the King was going on one of his rare outings before midday that next day, for the first time in the last ten years.

The king of Alagaësia had provided for her up upbringing not long after her parents had passed into the Void. Since that time, Rose had taken to avoiding the courts of Urû'baen and all its intrigues as much as possible, valuing her freedom above all else, and being wary of the noblemen who sought to use her- this was due to her deceased father's usefulness to the King. Rose's father, Morzan, had once been King Galbatorix's most faithful and dedicated servant. He was the first and last of the Thirteen Forsworn, a malevolent band of Dragon Riders who served under Galbatorix. Together, with their crooked dragons, they declared war on the Dragon Riders of old and sought to raze the ancient order. It was a long and bloody war, but Galbatorix along with his power-hungry servants were crowned victorious and Galbatorix took the throne naming himself all powerful King of Alagaësia.

Without the dark essence King Galbatorix in the castle, the gloomy stone walls seemed to lighten. The steps of the many servants had more of a bouncing edge, their backs casual and not so taut, that was everyone except for Ailis. Had Rose not spied on her and Tornac, she would not have been watching Ailis' movements so closely and she would have missed the slight tremor of her hands and the hastiness of her work.

The morning that day had passed as routine; Ailis had woken Rose with a cup of steaming tea and moved to her wardrobe where she pulled out a gown for that day. Once Ailis had helped Rose dress in a simple yet light and flowing gown, she set to braiding the young lady's thick locks, taking twice as long as usual. Her hair was done so intricately and securely that Rose feared it would take just as long, if not longer to be unfastened. When this task was completed Ailis turned to Rose, her brown eyes guarded.

"It would be wise to spend your leisure in the libraries," the older woman advised, "you have fallen behind in your studies, and neither of us wishes for the King to take notice."

This was true, Rose had fallen far behind in her studies. These studies the king himself had assigned to her weeks before.

Rose agreed to follow Ailis' warning and spent a few short hours in the rooms of the libraries. It was not long after midmorning when the King toke his leave that Rose took hers as well. Quickly, slipping out of the massive rooms she found and began to trail Ailis. It seemed however that the ever watchful Ailis was aware of her actions and inquired if Rose needed anything before shooing her back to the libraries. Since then the older woman had visited the studies often to insure that Rose remained in place.

She only dared to slip out once, risking the wrath of Ailis, to fetch her viol and its casing.

The viol had been placed in an embroidered, padded leather case where it sat by her bed untouched except for late at night when Rose found herself unable to rest. Only then would she pluck at the strings testing its sound, not bothering with the bow for the time being. Its presence had become a sort of balm to her troubled mind and conflicting feelings. As the day progressed Rose found herself aching to play the strings if only to break the tedious silence. However she would resist such urges and continue to study, if only to keep Ailis from badgering her later.

Ailis was a matter that confused her most. Rose knew that Ailis was shepherding her into the room with a purpose. But Rose didn't know what the reason was and only that it had something to do with the conversation she had overheard.

Rose turned over an unusual, small amulet in her hand with distaste, something Ailis had insisted she wear that day. _Ailis it seems_, Rose thought looking at a small pink diamond set in the amulet_, is full of mysteries lately. And I cannot seem to unravel even the smallest of them._

Ailis had come to Urû'baen one day in search to replace Cordelia, the woman who acted at Rose's nursemaid from birth until she retired the very day Rose turned eighteen. Two weeks after Cordelia took her leave, Ailis had insisted on the position claiming that though Rose was now a grown woman she would still need a maternal figure until such time she wed, Tornac had agreed with Ailis' claim without meeting her. A week later he left for one of many missions he seemed to acquire lately, leaving Rose at Ailis' mercy. For the six months that they knew each other, Ailis formed a swift bond with Rose. Ailis was tender, yet stronger and more stern, then Cordelia had ever been, driven to keep Rose on a gentle path away from Galbarorix and the capital's influences. In many ways Ailis succeeded and in others she had failed, her biggest failure consisting on the poignant memory that was The Black Hand.

The Black Hand was a ruthless assassin, who had once fled on horror filled missions of murder, torture and many other horrors. The Black Hand was completely under Morzan's, Rose's father, control until one mission ended in The Black Hand's own death. Since The Black Hand's passing, Galbatorix has been trying in vain to recreate usefulness of The Black Hand until he had created a group of rag-tag assassins. Though skilled, the King's collection did not match Morzan's Black Hand's skill. It was only recently that the King had set his eyes on Rose, much to Rose's dismay.

This is where many of Rose's troubles took root, because not only was her father a ruthless servant of Galbatorix but her mother was Morzan's assassin; The Black Hand. Being the sole heir to both Morzan and his Black Hand it was only logical that the King try to reconstruct their value in Rose. This threat hung over Rose like a dark cloud, haunting her every thought and ensnaring her in trepidation unlike any manacles could hope to do.

Ailis barged into the undisclosed room, off of the main library that Rose had shut herself up in, startling the young lady. Rose looked up questionably and froze at the sight of Ailis' state. Ailis stood wide-eyes and panting, her uniform white and purple gowns were replaced with a dark velvety dress that was tied at the waist by a thick black belt that held a blackened shortsword. She was covered by a long and black wool cloak. Her arms, layered with wide bracers, were burdened with two buckskin travelbags and a pair of rich boots. She had another, larger bag slung across her back.

Ailis meet Rose's eyes and a look of suborn determination crossed her flushed face. Without saying a word, Ailis tossed the pair of boots onto Rose's lap. "Put those on." Ailis demanded.

Rose merely looked at the boots, repudiate to move. She stared back at Ailis stubbornly, refusing to lower her eyes.

"We have not the time for this!" Ailis said severely.

"Time for what?" Rose asked, matching Ailis' tone.

"Rose," Ailis said gently, testing the name out, "Rose, if you have even the smallest trace faith in me you will do as I say."

Ailis had not addressed her by name in any sort since Rose made her request.

"Where is Fate taking you?" Rose asked.

"Far from this black place."

"I don't understand."

"Then it is as it should be."

"Surely, you can spare an answer," said Rose angrily.

"Oh, Rose," Ailis said abruptly, looking slightly wounded. "Do you wish to become Galbatorix's slave? I thought that you did not, but perhaps I was wrong in my reckoning. I have no time. I have made my offer. You can stay or leave as you wish. I am simply asking what you want. If you don't know, it is no concern of mine." She dropped one of the leather bound bags at Rose's feet, then without looking back she walked toward the low door.

A feeling akin to panic surged through Rose. For a moment she saw a flash of a red blade arcing is way toward her body. As quick as possible Rose pulled off her slippers slipped her foot into a boot. The boots her fit well. The dark boots, Ailis gave her, when laced reached halfway up to her knee before folding in on theirselves. Once the boots were secure, she grabbed the bags at her feet and quickly tucked her viol into its casing and clutched it to her chest, before rushing out of the book-lined chamber.

"Wait!" She called out. "Wait!"

Ailis turned towards her, a wide smile gracing her face. Rose had never seen the older woman look in such high spirits.

"I'd had hoped you would come, dear," she said.

"Yes, but come where?" Rose asked, once more.

Ailis grasped Rose's hands into her own. Ailis' were cold and clammy as if she stuck them in winter's snow.

"Come," She said, pulling Rose toward the front of the vacant library, not taking her eyes off Rose the whole while. "All answers will be explained when we have secure ground to stand on. But for now, we must make haste."

Ailis then released Rose's right hand, keeping her left palm firmly in her grasp. Hand-in-hand, they walked past the many lush chairs and long tables to the entry of the library. As they did so Rose was assailed by panic once more. Somehow she already felt her decision was irrevocable, yet she did not know what she had decided. Who was Ailis truly? Rose knew little of her, other than she had no family.

There was nothing to secure their escape. Rose did not want to think about what would happen when King Galbatorix caught them for surely he would and what he would perform as punishment. This thought sickened her, and a hard knot took form in her stomach. But her doubts were overwhelmed by a fierce longing, as if all her desires for freedom, crushed by the many years under the King's ever-seeing eye, came back in a single urgent wave. _A chance of escape is better than becoming my parents,_ she thought, _because once I do, my soul will truly die._

Ailis led her out of the wide, gold-embossed doors into the arched corridor over to a burgundy woven tapestry that Rose had walked by a number of times in the past years without a single glance. Ailis swiftly pulled aside the drapery to expose a small, stout oaken door which she opened and proceeded to thrust Rose through, following shortly after. She closed the door behind her.

The short collider ended in a flight of steep, narrow stairs leading both up and down.

"The Servant's Halls. Come now, Rose, do not tally. It would be ill fate for you to go astray in this labyrinth," Ailis said taking Rose's hand into her own once more.

Ailis set a laboring pace down the brusque stairway, which Rose would rather crawl down than walk. At once Rose was thankful of the tough boots Ailis provided for her, as her slippers would have given way on the first step. They voyaged only a single set, before Ailis led her down another hallway and down yet another, until Rose lost all sense of direction. It was truly a labyrinth. Rose wondered how anyone could get where they were required to go. Once Rose was positive she would never see sunlight again, Ailis stopped before a door like that of which they entered.

"You're going to have to forgive me for the confusion I am about to hurl you into. Know that I am doing out of my care for you," Ailis said. "I'm going to have to beg you not to doubt me or loathe me until I explain things to you in full, until such a time I ask only for your patience and cooperation. And I thank you for following me thus far."

Ailis then opened the door, to reveal the harsh light of the sun. Not stopping to allow either of their eyes to adjust she rushed them past the courtyards and gardens of the castle to the gate keep of the entrance of the capital of Urû'baen. There was not a soul guarding the palace's entry, something that Rose had never witnessed.

As they went under the arch, a sole figure appeared on the other side.

"You took your time," said the figure not unkindly.

Rose recognized immediately that the voice belonged to Tornac. Rose had feared that she was going to lose the old man in her flight however she feared more of what Galbatorix was planning to curse her with, then any loss of her friends.

They stepped closer.

Tornac beamed Rose, before turning to Ailis. "The coast is clear. If all goes as planned, we should not have any troubles until the King hears of our flight." He said.

Tornac was dressed for travel, in a wool shirt and a jerkin and thick leggings covered by a long dark cloak. Ailis nodded, delighted with the information.

"I apologize," Ailis said turning to Rose, "but I asked Tornac to take the liberty of selecting you a steed."

They slowly continued down the grave path and it was not long before Tornac swore. "We have no time for this," he grumbled, speeding ahead into the center of the city leaving the women to chase after him.

The sun was only beginning to ascend down the sky and they passed through the gate arch its dark shadow fell over them. Before them, stretched a wide thoroughfare shadowed by towering stone and glass buildings of every kind.

Urû'baen was divided what was called The Three Circles, each circle was divided to segregate the wealth of the citizens of the capital and each Circle was guarded. The castle was at the center of the inner most Circle, called the Inner Circle and it was for the wealthiest; the Middle Circle consisted of the middleclass and the market; the Outer Circle, was the largest, it was reserved for the lowest public of Urû'baen.

At this moment they stood just outside the center of the Inner Circle.

Tornac took a sharp right and lead them to a picket where horses could be tied to for rest or their rider's convince. There were three horses tied to this post.

"Rose, it's gladdens my heart that you here," Tornac said, "but time is of the essence and now we must leave. Here, hand me your packs."

Wordlessly, Rose handed him her bag and viol case, which he took and attached to the saddle of a strawberry roan with a broad blaze down her nose. There two other horses picketed along with the roan, both were stallions one a fine-looking bay and the other sheer black, this one Rose recognized as Tornac's horse Shadowless. Both stallions were loaded with heavy packs. Once Tornac had attached the pack he went to Shadowless and picked though his large saddlebag and pulled a thick cloth out. He tossed the object to Rose, who caught it on pure reflex, before unpicketing the stallion. He quickly mounted the horse and turned it around, waiting for them to do the same.

Ailis finally released Rose's hand to untie the other two mounts, allowing Rose to unravel a long, dark blue cloak made of thick fleece. Without a second thought she put it on, relishing in the relief it brought from the cool air. Ailis came back, leading the horses, and pulled the deep hood up over Rose's head tightly hiding her face in the shadow.

Ailis assisted Rose with mounting the roan, and once she on top she handed the reins to Rose. With practiced grace, Ailis climbed onto the stallion and turned to Rose, her warm brown eyes serious. "Keep the hood up and ride closely," Ailis said.

Tornac beckoned his horse froth, Rose and Ailis followed suit. The city stretched dizzyingly high above them; Rose craned her neck back to look up, feeling as if the whole thing would topple down on her, crushing her with a vast weight of stone and glass. The roads lead to low ached gates of the Middle circle and the market. They passed though these gates unchallenged.

Sunlight and bell notes spilled simultaneously over the market and wide twisting alleys, picking out the glittering domes of the glass and stone towers. The alleys were teeming with people laden in adornments, bakers walking trays of fresh loaves, donkeys and pack mules loaded down with huge panniers or sacks, women in lushly embellished robes their fingers sparkling with shining rings, children were squabbling and playing, and hawkers marching up and down the paths loudly calling the virtues of their wares.

Tornac glowered at the sight, his scar twisting his face into a painful grimace. Rose licked her lips remembering Ailis' warning to stay close. What challenge it would be to stay close to anyone one person in such a crowd!

It was demanding task to keep close, forcing all focus on keeping the horse on path and traverse through the frenetic population. A task that would not be possible without bestowing extensive attention to what she was doing.

Tornac was hurrying them down the street, anxious to leave the capital, and it seemed to Rose that he was driven by the same madness took hold of her. It ran through her veins like fire, driving her to leave behind all she ever knew behind, demanding at she put forth blind faith and pray that she held no regret later.

At last they came to the Outer Circle, Tornac hastened their pace further, passing by the beggars and destitute without a glance, until they reached the dark gates of Urû'baen.

"Now comes the real test. I pray that you enjoy a good race, as we are about to partake in the one for our lives," said Tornac.

With that said, the old swordmen forced his stallion into a reckless gallop, his white hair rippled in the wind like waves from the sea. Rose followed close behind, surprised that her roan could keep such a swift pace. Ailis brought up the end leaning low on the bay.

Only when Urû'baen was but a spot in the distance, did Tornac slow their tiring pace and took them off the road. The strawberry roan, who Tornac seemed to have picked for her speed and endurance, was lathered with sweat and was beginning to tremble. They paused only briefly, going down to the river to water and allowed the horse to drink as they stretched their legs and hastily eat a meager dinner of hard beard and cheese before continuing. The landscape stretched out before them on a slight decline. The Ramr River ran to their right, broad and rapid, so that Rose could not see the other side._ It was only this morning that I woke up on the other side,_ Rose thought sadly.

They kept at a slow trot though the night was in almost total darkness. The heavy clouds meant that little moonlight aided their way. All Rose could see the dark shape of Tornac and Ailis, the darker shapes of sparse trees on either side, and the faint glint of the grass ahead of them. The horses, though exhausted from their mad dash, were sure-footed and never stumbled. Rose leaned against the roan's neck completely spent.

Only when the skies begin to lighten did Tornac lead them into a small forest of ash and oak. The shadows were lengthened, and immediately a chill fell around them. Ailis was looking around as she rode, having taken lead, seemingly hunting for something, and at last she nodded and led them slightly away from the loose track they were following, to a small dingle.

The coarse grass within the clearing shelved down to a spring that bubbled out of a ledge of rock, on top of which grew briars and woodbines. Half hidden by this growth was a small smooth cave with a sandy floor, where travelers had clearly made camp many times before. It even had a rough hearth of jagged stone.

"This place is enchanted to give all who visit shelter. For today and tonight it will grant us protection from our enemies." Ailis said, dismounting her bay stallion.

"I'll go and find us firewood," said Tornac groggily. He swung his leg off of Shadowless and sauntered off into woods, leaving the women in peace to wash if they pleased.

Rose was numb with cold and tiredness and was quite glad to slide off of her horse who she decided to call Eowyn. Slowly, she began to unsaddled the roan, aching for sleep. Rose brushed Eowyn free of sweat and mud with a roughly bristled comb Ailis handed to her and ensured that she was able to graze and drank as she needed before stumbling tiredly into the cave.

Ailis was sitting down her back facing Rose with her head in her hands. Rose cautiously sat down beside her. Ailis lifted her head and eyed her with an emotion Rose could not distinguish. "I'm sorry," The woman said suddenly and turned away.

Rose's heart sped and blood rushed to her face, distrust filled her body on its own accord. She pursed her lips then she turned away.

"Do you wish to wash?" Ailis asked, quietly.

Rose shook her head, her face burning. "No, I only wish to sleep."

A hand grasped her shoulder and squeezed it. "Then rest," Ailis said. "I'm sure you desire to be sober before my explanation."

Rose nodded. She laid down clutched the cloak to her body, wishing for the soft, feathered mattress back in Urû'baen.


	3. Chapter 3

_______I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
**Edit**- this chapter has been rewritten: July 5, 2013.  
____I do not take credit for the the name '__Lanogrim.'  
Enjoy,_

* * *

**A Warrior's Weapon**

When Rose awoke it was because of hunger pangs. Her head was humming, and if was a few seconds before she could open her eyes and see where she was. Someone had moved her and she was laying on a sparsely padded mantle made for traveling, and a thick wooly blanket was spread over her.

She sat up and looked towards the mouth of the cave, fingering the fine sand flooring. The sun was low in the sky, she could see its pale glowing light through the trees. A fire was lit in the savagely made hearth, throwing dancing light across the rough walls. Tornac was sitting with his back to her, in front of the fire, rubbing a fine looking sword with a flaccid cloth.

"Good evening," Tornac said without turning to glance at her. "We need to talk. I didn't appreciate the state in which you left your saddle and bags. Ailis took it upon herself to select and pack your bags for you, and it was no incautious thing either. But first," he continued, tossing her a meat pie, "eat!"

She looked around and realized that the woman was not anywhere in sight.

"I apologize, Tornac. Speaking of her," Rose said, turning over the meat pie with her hands. "Where is Ailis?"

Tornac held the sword up the light to examine it. "She went off to scout the area. Vigilant, that woman."

"Oh, Ailis!" She exclaimed, fretfully. Rose knew Ailis was strong woman, but she was not exactly in her prime and if she came against one of The Empire solders she would surely be captured or worse. To her surprise Tornac roared with laughter. Startled, she stared at the man waiting for an explanation. When Tornac had calmed himself, he turned and grinned at her crookedly.

"If Ailis were hurt," Rose began.

"_If_ Ailis were merely injured, I would be much more concerned for the unfortunate soul who unwisely raised his hand to her." He said with dark humor, "Our friend is a great deal more able than you believe her to be. Now, eat."

Despite herself, Rose glanced doubtfully at the swordsman which seemed to amuse him. Thinking about the shortsword Ailis had strapped to her waist yesterday, she let some of her doubts fade. Rose wondered if Ailis knew how to wield it. She must, Rose decided, otherwise she would not be carrying it about. After she put her doubts aside, she ate in silence, listening the crackling of the fire and the sounds of the horses grazing and the whisperings of the night.

Then Tornac stood up, awkwardly bent over, picking up a set of saddlebags and tossing that also to her. "These are yours," he said. "You'll find yourself suitable clothing. If you feel up to it, you should wash and change into them. It is bound to not be comfortable riding in that thing."

Rose nodded in complete agreement, and took to examining the saddle bags as Tornac returned to his work. The saddlebags were made of unmarked thick black, durable leather with broad thread weaved the pieces together and a simple tie kept the flap closed. Rose went through the first two bags, inside was clothing, folded complexly so that they took up little room; a spare pair of boots much like the ones she wore; a few beloved objects from her old chamber in Urû'baen; two small book; a travel kit for her horse; and a small ration of nuts and berries. The other pack was empty and curiously Rose picked up her viol case that was set beside the empty bag and placed it inside. It fit perfectly.

Pleased with her discovery, Rose took a spare set of clothing and went outside to the small spring. Eowyn and Shadowless whinnied at her in greeting. She undressed, noting with a pang of sadness that the once elegant dress was in tatters. She threw it aside and dipped herself into the water gasping at its coldness and nipping air. She kept her hair unwashed, as it was still weaved in Ailis' complex plaits and she did not wish to unravel them. She quickly got out and dressed in warm dry leggings and a long, thick tunic. The sharp grass cut into her feet, leaving them stinging and so she was more than happy to pull on thick socks and her boots. She looked herself over and bit her lip, unused to being able to see her legs, she felt unfavorable in the knee-length tunic and wooly leggings. But she shook herself as it didn't matter _besides that_, she thought,_ there was not many about to see me_.

Anxious to sit by the fire and warm her body, she quickly picked up the tattered dress and hurried to the cave but was stopped by Tornac who got up as soon as she walked in. He took the ruined dress from her and tucked it away claiming that they could use it for bandages and rags he then led her into the clearing with an unhappy grumble. There he pulled out the long hand-and-half sword, the one Rose had seen him polishing, and handed it to her hilt first.

"This is now yours," said he watching pushing the hilt into her hand. "Wield it wisely."

She took it clumsily nearly dropping it as she did so, and then balanced it her hand, it was a light weapon. The blade was straight and made of a beautiful silver with a pale blue hilt shaped like a leaf and cunningly enameled with gold that marked it as Tornac's work. The man rarely forged blades but when he did they were a rare and deadly beauty.

She looked at him guardedly. "I thank you," she said.

"Don't thank me, yet," said Tornac, he drawing his own sword, a light piercing blade made of the strongest material mankind could find, with a hilt fastened with a twisting salmon. He pointed the weapon at her and startled, Rose jumped back. "Draw your sword, Rose, its useless hanging about your side."

"You cannot expect me to learn how to use this thing," she said. "Swords are for warriors, something that I am not."

He made an exasperated sound. "Of course I expect you to learn. For all the trouble you are," he said, "you need to know how to defend yourself, you don't need to be a soldier to do that."

Rose looked uneasily down at the sharp blade. "There's a chance of one of us hurting eachother. Why not use a wooden substitute?"

"Don't be ridicules," he said pointing the blade at her face. "You'll never learn to defend yourself properly." He then demonstrated basic swordcraft and had Rose face him. Most of this time, Rose spent evading him and dropping her sword, this was a matter that seemed to amuse Tornac to no end. An hour of sword practice left Rose dripping with sweat and feeling completely inadequate. She had learned, however, how to hold a sword both one- and two-handed and that flailing it wildly was a bad idea. "Intelligence," Tornac kept saying. "Intelligence is the key. You are not strong enough to be stupid. _Think!_" When Tornac announced that they were done, Rose instantly sat on the ground, where she stood, panting. Unexpectedly, Tornac sat across from her grinning, his light eyes bright. Rose laughed grimily imagining her prospects of coming out a danger alive, and soon Tornac joined in. They were still in this state when Ailis joined them on horseback, three limp rabbits on her lap and a yellow bow drown.

Puzzled, she raised one of her thin eyebrows. "Is that your plan to defend yourself," she said, "to giggle at your opponent? If that be the case: my advice is to hide behind Tornac if any trouble occurs."

Tornac's booming laugh echoed through the forest, surprising a few birds as they crowed at him and flew away. He stood up, suddenly lucid. "Excuse me, ladies," He said giving Ailis a piercing look.

Ailis dismounted her stallion and motioned Rose over to her. Apprehensive, Rose stood and walked over to Ailis in stiff movements. The older woman smiled at Rose, something that she had been taken onto herself to do each time she saw the young lady since they first met, this still slightly disturbed Rose. As she stood beside Ailis, the woman slipped her hand into Rose's and gave it a gentle squeeze. Unlike yesterday, her hands were warm and dry.

Perturbed, Rose pulled her hand away and clasped both of her hands behind her back, grasping the hilt of her sword tightly. Ailis seemed to not take notice, as she gestured to the bay stallion. "Rose, this is Lanorgrim," Ailis said with a hint of proud in her voice. "I do not know if you have already but your horse requirements a name to call it by."

Rose looked into Ailis' eyes trying to understand what she was inquiring. Seeing not animosity, she said, "I have already named her Eowyn."

"Eowyn," Ailis said trying the name out, "A fine name. You picked well."

"Thank you." Rose inclined her head.

Ailis studied her for a short moment before pulling at both of Rose's arms to loosen them from behind her back. Ailis slid her hands down Rose's arms to her wrists seeming to notice the sword for the first time. "Did Tornac give this to you?" She asked.

"Yes." Rose said briskly, confused by Ailis sudden tenderness. In Urû'baen she rarely did anything in this manner.

"May I?"

Wordlessly, Rose handed Ailis her sword. Ailis took it from her and studied it for a long moment, before moving away and slashing it though the air. It was a performance of agile and precise movements that left Rose feeling worse about her own lack of skill then she had before. Once Ailis was satisfied with the balance, she returned to Rose. "A fine blade. Light and apt. Meant to defend its owner quickly and strike at a moment notice," She shook her head in an amused manner. "Yet, Tornac has out done himself once again."

"He has," Rose agreed. Many years ago, Tornac had told her of his interest in objects of the Elven culture; how they seem to create an art out of the simplest objects. When he was younger he spent much of his time driving on the verge of madness trying create a way sculpt the metals and not just how to pound them with a mallet. He had told Rose of how he preserves swordcraft as a fine art, just not a way to hack down one's foes. Looking at the sword he molded, she knew that his creations were a testament to that.

"He is a rare man," said Ailis, "that Tornac. And he had done you proud, you should be honored."

The woman patted the horse and lead him to the others, so he could rest and graze, allowing Rose to ponder over her words. As Rose thought about, she found that she did feel honored. Tornac spent little of his time teaching and those rare few he did were skilled warriors and deadly assassins. Rose wondered for the first time how King Galbatorix had gotten his hands on him. When Ailis returned, Rose held her sword as if it were a sacred object as if she was afraid that it she loosened her grip the blade may turn to grain.

Together she and Rose silently walked back into the low cave. Once inside Ailis guided Rose to the fire and began to show her how to skin and gut one of the plumper rabbits. She then tasked Rose with cutting the slender pink meat into fine squares. This left Rose with black spots dancing across her vision and feeling extremely nauseous, and she was more than happy to be done with the task.

Ailis was adding spices to stew when she turned to Tornac, who was showing Rose how to properly fasten the scabbard of her sword to a belt, "I believe you can take over, can you not, Tornac?"

"Aye," Tornac said, leaving Rose to fumble and drop the scabbard, he sat down by the fire and began to stir the stew. Without turning around he said, "Rose?"

Rose belt down and picked up the dropped weapon. "Yes?"

"Be careful not to drop your blade every time you touch it, else your dog meat."

Rose puffed out her cheeks in frustration and blew out a deep breath. As if it were her fault! "Yes, Tornac," She said forlornly.

Ailis smirked grimly and beckoned Rose outside. "Would you like to go for a brief walk?" Ailis asked.

Rose nodded, squinting into the darkening forest. The evening had a cold edge, but this early it was mild and clear, and though she couldn't see much of the sky but she knew it to be a bright ginger, paling the world of its color. After a short time of walking Ailis turned to Rose, "Would you like at hear why we left in such haste?"

Rose glanced curiously at Ailis as they made their through the ancient trees. "I would," she said.

Ailis stopped and nodded. For a long moment she looked uneasy and then she grabbed Rose's hand once more, holding it tightly in her hand. "I suppose that you should understand some my past first," said the woman. "You and I are not so different both of paths are colored with a grief of sorts, only mine was in my own illusion of love. I was young, younger than you are now when I met a powerful aristocrat and fell quickly in love with him. He was handsome and I was a fool. We married soon after we met, and I thought we wed in love only we did not." Ailis paused and smiled sadly.

"He was using me for his own gain, but at the time I did not know this. I was blind for years until after I had our child. When I told of the coming child, he did not react how I expected him to as he always shown open distaste towards children. He was quite pleased with the information and embraced me, at the time I thought it was out of love for me and our unborn child but it was not the case. He had only acted the way he had to appease me, but soon I quickly learned of his illusion. But before I knew of this, I prepared and waited for our child. As I waited I began to look forward to becoming a mother, the very idea filled me with indescribable joy, and for a time I wished dearly for a boy, for an heir for my beloved."

Ailis laughed softly and shook her head, her eyes glazed over from distant memories.

"I did not bear a boy. Nay, I had a little girl, who quickly became the star that led my life. Every moment I had at my leisure I would spend it with her. After only a handful of years, I had come home from a brief trip to find her dead and my beloved missing. I hunted for the pitiful soul who would harm my child only to find it was the man who fathered her," said Ailis. She stopped unable to say more for moment and stared down at the ground before them, holding on tightly to Rose's hand. "I cannot begin to express how I felt there are no words for it.  
"I quickly planned my revenge only to find that the murderer had already passed into the Void. Enraged and injured I turned south to the Varden, and for many years I played an important part in raids and sabotages against The Empire, all those years I blamed myself for the loss of... for my own misery. This took an immense toll on me and I once again became reckless, it was then that I devised a plan. Together the leader of the Varden, I worked on an inside attack against Galbatorix, a dangerous task that I insisted on leading and not without good reason. It took over a year of persuasion and even longer to plan out. After five long years, I left for Urû'baen in guise of a poor widow seeking work. There are quite a few spies in the castle and they assisted in forming me a position under you."

This shocked Rose. Varden spies in the heart of Urû'baen, could it be true?

"You surprised me, Rose. I did not expect to be serving under someone as… attentive as you nor did I expect to befriend you so. Having learned of your predicament, I quickly forged a new plan this one hastier and more despite than the last. With the Varden's and Tornac's help I ensured that the king be away for a good number of hours. From there I slipped a large sleeping-draft in the servant's rations, this included the guards at the castle's gateway. Alas, that was a bit trickier then you may believe! You, however," Ailis turned to Rose looking exasperated. "You complicated matters greatly, forcing me to take twice as long as I should have with your following me around. I cannot blame you, however, as you did not know what was at stake. After, I striked back at the king I went to you. You know the rest. I will admit that our escape went smoother then I believed it would as I was sure we would challenged."  
"Where to now?" Rose asked angrily. She felt that she already knew the answer, but she did not want to voice it.

Ailis looked at her obviously taken back. "My plan is to go to Kausta," said Ailis, "and later to the Varden."

Rose glared at the ground and kicked hard at a stone, which sailed into the air as soon as her boot made contact. Another stone came within punting distance and she swung her boot at this one as well. She swore loudly, as she missed and made contact with a solid root instead. She was positive that her toes were going to bruise.

"I am sorry, Rose, but I cannot see the reason for your anger." Ailis said, watching Rose's tirade.

"The Varden!" Rose exclaimed angrily, "You going to bring me to the Varden. I may as well walk back to Urû'baen blaring a war horn! Do you seek my death?"

A peculiar expression crossed Ailis' face, a mix between anger and hurt. "Nay, Rose, I could never wish for your death. You are far too dear to me. Tell me now; why do you believe the Varden shall not welcome you?"

Rose glowered at her. "My father was Morzan and my mother…" she trailed off too angry to continue, "My mother was his cursed Black Hand! Why would they welcome me?"

Ailis thought over it for a long moment. "They will welcome you," she said. "They will welcome you because they know not of who you are. Ajihad shall have to know but other than him, it is your secret to tell as you please."

Still enraged, Rose did not talk until they were almost back that their encampment. Ailis stayed silent as well, allowing Rose to simmer in peace. The only sound was their boots crushing brittle autumn leaves.

"What did you do to the king?" Rose asked, once the worst of her ire had sun had now completely disappeared, leaving long skeletal shadows intertwining across the littered ground. Rose tighten her cloak around her body, thankful not for the first time for its warmth.

"I stole something rather valuable of his," Ailis said her eyes glinting with mischief.

"Surely, he'll notice if it was valuable."

Ailis laughed lightly. "I think not. Not for some time at least."

With her anger set aside, Rose looked at Ailis curiously. "What did you do, Ailis?" asked she.

"Swear to me in the Ancient Language that you won't tell a soul and I will show you."

"I know naught of the Ancient Language." Rose admitted.

Ailis, who in fact knew a deal of the Ancient Language, gave Rose a basic lesson. Once Rose had sworn not to tell anyone what Ailis was about to show her, Ailis readily lead Rose to the encampment to show her the goods. During their walk Ailis spoke only a few words, commenting on the chill in the wind that meant that frost and perhaps the first of winter's snow may fall within a week's time and that she planned on them leaving at first light the next morning.

As they walked Rose's mind kept straying back to the Varden. Ailis was convinced that this Ajihad would accept her, while Rose remained skeptical. Ajihad, Rose came to realize, had to be some sort of leader for the Varden. _The Varden!_ The same Varden who made of rebels and outlaws, thieves and killers banded together to ensure the down fall of Alagaësia's king. The Varden who have been a thorn in Galbatorix's crown for numerous years causing tribulation and riots, the Wanders, and Ailis was a part of them. Rose began to wonder what nameless peril she had agreed to and for the first time a seed of doubt began to form in her mind.

* * *

_A/N: I did some research to find that the rare true swordmen did in fact make their own blades. As for changing Murtagh's famed hand-and-a-half sword, the sword needed an effect of value to Rose, not just something for her to throw around as it pleased her.  
_


	4. Chapter 4

_I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
__Enjoy,_

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**A Frost's Breath**

Rose chewed on the rabbit meat thoughtfully, the tender meat was a balm in her mouth. It was a surprisingly flavorful and she chewed leisurely so to savor the sweet taste. The warm broth calmed the tremors of her aching body. Setting her carved bowl aside Rose turned to the hidden objects Ailis had stolen from Galbatorix.

She now understood much of Ailis' hast the day before, she too would be eager to put as much distance as possible between herself and the king, if she were Ailis. How Ailis pulled it off was a complete different mystery, one that Ailis said was a trick of deception and magic. A trick she would explain in full on a later date as she was tired and desired to rest in peace while she could. Rose understood, of course, however this only complicated her already jumbled mind.

Rose numbly thought back to when Ailis had taken the objects out of their casing and the complete and utter shock that left her feeling numb from head to toe upon seeing such a thing, this was a feeling that had yet to diminish fully.

When Ailis had handed one of the objects to Rose, she had ran her fingers over the smooth surface, afraid to it may shatter if she pressed too hard, following the spiderweb of thin pearly veins. Dragon eggs, Rose knew, were now a very rare sight indeed. To steal a dragon egg from Galbatorix's grasp was suicide, but Ailis had found a way to take not just one but two of them and live to tell the tale. It would be quite a tale indeed, once Ailis decided to reveal it.

Rose could remember her father's terror of a dragon; a massive beast with smooth iridescent, burgundy scales that gleamed like opals in the bright afternoon sunlight, and the long, deadly silver spikes that ran down the length of it long neck and covered the tip of its bulky tail. The savage beast had snapped and growled at her small body each time she had the misfortune to walk across its path. She remembered fleeing to safe arms when the beast ascended from the sky. Even in its death and years to fade its memory the beast still brought on night terrors. Galbatorix's stolen dragon, Shruikan was not much different. Shruikan, a creature, who strives only for madness and death, was something that Rose took joy in avoiding.

She could not envisage how the unhatched dragons would be any different than the beasts she had met. Rose also could not imagine someone taking such an endeavor to save the dragon eggs, if only to keep them from the king.

The taste of blood brought Rose out of her musing, she had unknowingly been biting her lip to loosen the tension. Rose licked her lips and picked back up the carved bowl.

There was no going back to Urû'baen_._ The only place she had to go to now was with Ailis and Tornac, wherever their path may lead. To the Varden or not, she was now without a home. This thought set over her, darkening her mind. She knew this when she set out with Ailis, however, the severity of her decision only now took full effect. _It's better than being Galbatorix's servant,_ Rose thought grimly, _I maybe without a home and a warm bed but at least I am free. However bitter it may be. _

Rose stood up and stretched, her hands scraping the roof of their shelter, she felt like she had been beaten over with sticks. She walked out of the fire-warmed shelter and into the night, gasping at the bitter air. Her boots crunched on the frost covered ground. She hunched her cloak around her shoulders, glancing suspiciously at the shadows in the night. Ever since she seen the dragon eggs she felt like someone was contently spying in on her. A violent shiver rocked her body on its own accord and she walked back inside.

.  
Ailis, who had been talking quietly to Tornac during the meal, looked up as Rose walked in.

"I believe I was right by saying it will freeze over tonight," said Ailis.

"You were." Rose said sleepily.

The older woman looked her over noting her heavy-eyes and said, "Do you wish to sleep?"

"I couldn't even if I wished to." Rose looked over at Ailis and Ailis smiled at her tenderly.

"I am sorry, Rose," Ailis said. "I am sorry for overwhelming you this day. I should have realized just how demanding my news would be to you. It cannot be easy what you're going through at this moment; being hurdling from one world and into a strange unknown one." She began to say something else, but her voice faltered and she looked away from Rose.

Whether this 'strange, unknown world,' be good or ill Rose was thankful to Ailis. Still angry with having no other choice than to be dragged to The Varden, Rose didn't voice her words. After all, there would be time in the morn to give her thanks for now Rose only sought silence.

Rose slipped out her bedroll and blanket, shaking it out, and curled up inside it. There she listened quietly to the soft murmur of Tornac and Ailis' voices as they continued their conversation.

.  
Rose was woken by Tornac gently shaking her. It was still dark outside but the cave was lit by the warm glow of embers. She hadn't slept well that night, her head was swimming with thoughts that demanded her attention, it was only in the late hours of the night was she finally fell into a light, dreamless slumber.

"Good, you're awake," said Tornac.

Rose rubbed her eyes with the palms of her hands.

"Get up and pack. Ailis is eager to leave, not that I disagree with her, we have dwelled here far too long. Once you're ready, come out. You can eat on the trail." With that said, Tornac left the cave.

The small cavern was empty, expect for the empty pack that held Rose's blankets. Yawning, Rose crawled out of her warm covers and into the freezing air. She quickly slipped on her boots and shoved the bedroll in the bag, leaving the blanket out draping over her shoulders.

That day they continued through the woods. In late afternoon Rose thought she detected a thinning in the trees and wondered if they neared the edges. Ailis confirmed this. "By sundown tonight we will be nearing northern regions of Leona Lake. From there we should head northwest to the road that goes through the Spine to Teirm. Our destination is not Teirm, mind you. I would dearly like some news but we cannot risk someone noticing either of you, I think."

"Aye," said Tornac, "going unnoticed by the Empire is most desired."

As the day wore on Rose began to notice a sort of sorrow that seemed to envelop Ailis. Her shoulders were hunched and her face was grim. Ailis spoke seldom and when she did it was but a few words.

As the sun set Ailis was proven correct by her reckoning, in the far distance shone a cerulean lake like a massive beacon in the setting sun. Ailis took them farther back in the woods until she came to a suitable clearing of tough grass. There they made camp and ate a cold meal of bread and cheese. Tornac made Rose face him once more with her sword while Ailis silently watched. As soon as the last light faded from the shadowy heavens, the travelers fled to their bedrolls and thick blankets to escape the chill. A bitter frost came again that night.  
.

The steely overcast held fast, turning their world a monotonous shadowy replica compared to the colors it once held.

Their days where tedious and it wasn't long before they assumed a repeating pattern.

Each morning they awoke, their minds numb and slow from the shock of the frosty air and more than once with frost in their hair and cold stiffening their clothing. Cold and still fighting off the remnants of sleep they would pack up their camp and break their fast. When their bellies were satisfied with an insipid breakfast of stale bread and dried meat, they would began their tedious journey through the bleak rolling valleys of arid grass that surrounded the northern regions of Leona Lake. Much of this time on was passed by challenging riddles and puzzling mind games in a futile attempt to keep their minds off the merciless chill. Rose would offend stare unseeingly ahead, during these games, at the infinite vale dreaming of the crackling of a fire and the soft cushioned winged chair that sat in Urû'baen. She soon found that it hard to think of anything but the previous heat of the summer and began to wonder if her earlier life of warmth and comfort was nothing but a fantasy her mind had concocted to torture her.

At midday they would stop for a quick meal and allowed the horses to drink from an occasional stream. After resting they resumed to their aimless trek. In the afternoon they ceased their chatter, their throats raw and their lips chapped and bloodied from the chilled air. Tornac was able to lessen their pain by tying rags around their faces, which covered their mouths and nose. This solution left their faces moist from their breath so when the wind blew, it bit deeper than before and they soon tossed the rags away. On the fifth day of their traveling, Rose began to consider that they were lost as the distant shine of Leona Lake was far behind and neither road nor Toark River were in sight. Despite her warm gloves and thick boots, Rose had chilblains, and she was certain her nose was bright red from being pinched by the cold. She didn't voice her troubles and endured the punishing cold in silence.

Each night they were forced to camp in the barren plains as they have found no signs of either road or humans. Though their minds were tired and their bodies stiff from the infinite cold, they unburdening their steeds and set up a rough camp. Before resting they collected a small mound of grass and bits of wood from a stray tree for the fire that promised little warmth for their skin and heat for their food. Once their bellies were satisfied, though never full, Tornac made Rose practice her swordcraft. He was a tough teacher, who accepted nothing less than perfection, and he would push Rose well past her limit, though the nagging cold often distracted her greatly causing her to fumble and forget much of his advice the moment it spilled from his mouth. Despite her blunders, he enforced that her practice was demanding enough so that within a week's time she no longer dropped her sword every time he struck. Meanwhile, Ailis poured over the map, occasionally muttering under her breath, her face glowing bright in the firelight. Once Tornac announced that they were done for the night, Ailis would fold up the map and check on the dragon eggs. When the sun had set and the warm fire baked the ground, the travelers protected themselves as best they could against the punishing cold by swaddling in their blankets and cloaks.

.  
On the day that marked their nineteenth, remarkably little had passed and so it was a welcoming sight when the sky cleared. The sky was a crystal blue and clear from any clouds and the blazing sun was cruel as it brought no warmth to the land below.

Despite the cold, Rose was cheered and pulled off her hood grateful for the sunshine.

At midday the air shifted and a bank of swirling dark gray clouds replaced the sun sending the world back into its grey slumber. At the same moment Ailis turned her head alertly and sniffed the air, as if she were a deer sensing danger. At that moment a sudden strong wind came up, blowing the grass flat to the ground, and died away into to steady current of air. None of them remarked the change but traveled on with new determination.

Late that afternoon the wind picked up further, and it began to snow heavily. Soon the ground was covered in a frigid blanket of feathery white. Worriedly, Ailis sped up their pace. The horses trudged along with their tails miserably between their legs and their ears flat against their skulls. As the day grew on the light grew worse and worse until visibly ceased to exist.

It was the most miserable day yet, and Rose almost cried with relief when Tornac pointed out a shadow of a roofed building on the horizon. They hastened their gait, keen to reach shelter from the storm. At one point Ailis turned around shouting but her words were lost to the raging howl of the wind.

At last they reached the building and were able to identify it to be a barn. The old barn stood tall and worn from eras of use with weathered pale wood riddled with cracks and holes. The clay tiled roof was crumbling and tattered, in some places it ceased to exist, offering painfully little protection. The front half of the barn was nonexistent, looking as if it was torn entirely off by the jaws of a great fiend.

Apprehensive Tornac dismounted Shadowless and was first to step over the crumbing wood and check the inside. He was gone only moments, leaving the women to shiver in the cold, when he came back out shaking his head but he beckoned them inside. Rose and Ailis both dismounted and guided their horses through the splintered wood.

"It shan't offer us mush shelter but at least we are safe from the worse of the storm," said Tornac once they were inside.

The inside was in the same sad state as the rest of the barn; frayed and worn. A pair of twin bronze briers climbed up the high walls of the barn. The ground was littered with droppings and trampled from the years of use from both humankind and animals alike. Few possessions from the prior resents remained; a rusted horseshoe, leaky wooden pails, and a shattered glass vial.

Once the horses were unsaddled, the travelers went to work on removing the dung and broken glass. Soon after a large section of the earth was free of waste, Tornac collected wood for a small fire. They gathered around the flame exultant to warm their stiff and frozen bones. Rose took off her tightly woven gloves and stretched out her naked hands towards the warmth.

That night Ailis made a hot dinner, a mildly seasoned stew of dried meat. They sat and ate in silence listening to the wind rattle their feeble shelter.

The barn was hardly cozy, since it was little more than sheltered half walls of patched wood. Shrieking blasts of wind threw handfuls of sleet and snow onto the floor, where it melted and ran sizzling into the fire. But it sheltered them from increasing gale of the storm that was steadily growing worse. Rose sat hutched with her blanket and cloak wrapped tightly around her body, as close to fire as she could without catching fire herself.

"I pray this storm blows itself out tonight," said Tornac, "else we could be holed up here for days."

Rose hoped they would not be trapped in that barn for days, it was gloomy enough in the blackness of night. Sighing Rose leaned back, the intense heat from the fire was beginning to burn her face.

"That would be the least of our worries." Ailis said.

Ailis had gotten up minutes after she had finished her serving to look over the dragon eggs. In slow movements she stood up cradling the bag that held the dragon eggs with both hands and walked over to them. She slowly sunk down to the ground where she wrapped her head in her hands. "Of all the horrible events that could happen, it is as if our good fortune had ran out the moment we left Urû'baen! If it were not for this wretched storm, I'd be riding out of here at this very moment," she moaned dejectedly.

"What are you going on about?" Tornac asked.

"Look in the bag and you will know."

Ailis offered the pack to him without looking up. Tornac leaned around the fire so to pick up the large buckskin sack and looked inside. A peculiar expression crossed over his face and he sighed deeply and closed his eyes.

"How could this have happened, Ailis?" asked Tornac in an angry voice.

Rose glanced between Ailis and Tornac wondering what could have happened to cause such behavior from both of them.

"That's what I'm wondering," said Ailis. "The bag has been heavily charmed to hinder such problems from occurring. I was there myself when the bag was spelled and I could see no omissions. You asked how this could have happened, Tornac, but I do not know."

Tornac turned away from them and set the bag aside before looking at Rose and placing it on her lap. "You are a part of this, Rose," he said simply before looking back into the fire.

The bag was made of soft yet durable light brown leather on the outside. On the inside there were two twin pouches big enough for the large dragon eggs to dwell side-by-side. These pouches were made of a foreign spongy leaf-green fabric. The stretching that held the bag together was like nothing Rose had ever seen before, small and barely notable. Inside one of the pouches was a large oval emerald green dragon egg lined with pearly veins. The other pouch was empty and a sizeable tear spread across the seaming at the bottom. Rose reached in and pushed her arm through the hole wriggling her fingers as they came out the other end.

Rose looked up at Ailis, who still sat with her head in her hands.

Rose swallowed. "Ailis?"

"Yes?"

"What protections did this bag have?" Rose asked, running her fingers over the dragon egg.

Ailis rubbed her face and looked up at Rose. Her eyes were red and swollen though they held no tears. "Still have, Rose, the spells hold strong. There are enchantments to protect against thief; to prevent any unwelcome eyes from peeking; to protect the eggs from ill; to prevent the bag from tearing or ripping and a many more countless spells. All these spells are fueled by a diamond sewn within, do not look for it, it is hard to find.

"These spells were performed by a powerful elf who made the bag itself. The elves played a colossal part in this flight of ours, as they used much of their learning to insure the eggs salvation. And so, I am puzzled as to why the spells still hold and yet the bag is torn, and the egg missing." With that she fell silent and looked down at her hands.

Rose nodded and looked over the bag with a new respect. This bag was created for one purpose: to insure the eggs safe delivery to The Varden and in return to the Elves yet somehow it had failed. _How many or how little protections do we truly travel with? _Rose wondered, _And how many of those still hold strong?_

"What shall we do now," Rose asked, staring at the shining green surface, "Do we look for the egg?"

"What other choice do have?" Ailis began. "We cannot leave one of the last dragon eggs to fend for itself and pray that Galbatorix or one of his servants do not happen across it. I think we shall have to begin a search when this tempest slows. Until then we will have to wait."

Tornac agreed, too tired to tutor Rose in her swordcraft, he bid them good night. He then turned away and swiftly fell asleep. Rose wondered how he found sleep so easily as she would not be able to find the soft folds of sleep in this deafening storm. As if prove her point, the barn shuddered from the wind and a shrill whistle filled their ears. Rose sat silently beside Ailis, cradling the single egg in her lap and running her fingers over the smooth surface. She stared out weary into in night and whispered a silent prayer, that was lost to the wind, that the other egg was safe and that they would find it soon else it be lost forever in the dull plains.


	5. Chapter 5

_I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.__  
_**_Edit- _**_this chapter has been rewritten: July__ 5,__ 2013.  
__Enjoy,_

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**In Search**

Rose thought the cold would never leave her; it seemed to have entered the very marrow of her bone. Shaking off a furious shiver that took control of her body on its own accord, she swept her gaze of the white blanketed hills. In silent wonderment she stood before the world of frost and glass staring idly out at the cold and lifeless brilliance, the ruins of the tattered barn scattered before her.

It was a bitter bliss that the storm had let up and its wrath vanished from the night skies clear, allowing the moon to shine down on the world at last. She had been so eager to see the star filled skies after having traveling so far and so long under its steel-grey obscurity however much of its beauty was embittered by the piercing cold and ravenous wind. A round, fat moon glowed eerily high above the world setting the layers of sparking snow ablaze with a silvery-gold light. The light reflected everywhere, highlighting the silhouettes of trees boldly lining horizon, so proud and tall and strong. A curling of clouds besieged the sky and hide the moon once more, and the beauty was lost.

An estranged gargle broke the amity of the night, and she turned away with a tired sigh. She hadn't been able to sleep much that night, the whistling of the wind and the rumbling displeasure of the heavens kept her well awake. She had spent some the time talking to Ailis but it wasn't long before the woman took to sleep and her snore began to rupture the small moments of peace. Rose looked over her now as she slept on her side, her mouth opened wide, entangled in her blanket and cloak.

She picked up an armful of wood and refueled the dying fire, the flame fluttered happily as they ate up the marked wood, and sat down. There wasn't much she wished to think about, and so she sat fighting off the drags of tiredness, watching the fire as it imprinted its radiance into her mind. Her eyelids were as heavy as stone, and eyeballs felt as they had rolled in hot sand.

Tears filled her eyes and a grief had grew inside her, a home sickness for a life she hadn't had even before she left the capital, she curled in on herself allowing her body to fall to the side. Rose huffed at the tendrils of hair that fell onto her face and sat back up suddenly restless. Her grief was ephemeral with her impatience and she shot to her feet, picking up a water bottle and took a long swig from it. Then she sat back down, her energy short lived, as her eyelids grew heavy again.

She sat absolutely, in an agony of listening, and as she did sleep kept sweeping through her body like an irresistible wave. She had grown use to this tiredness, as she had often kept watch after long and exhausting days. Yet she was struggling to keep eyes open and at least she roused Tornac, who grumbled at her unhappily, and laid down to light slumber.

.  
Rose took off her chilled gloves and rubbed her hands together, her fingers were tinted a pale blue. It was to her annoyed humor, the freezing air had not depart with the blizzard the day before, no, if anything the cold had became more potent, and high above a cruel sun glared down from the sky bringing forth no warmth to the frozen earth below. The harsh light glared off countless reflexive mounds of snow causing her eyes smart and burn from the ceaseless glare.  
Rose rubbed the water away from her eyes, her hands felt icy and her skin tight and stiff. She had gotten very little sleep before Ailis woke her, looking beady eyed and pale, and handed her a cup of strong tea. As she was shivering she swallowed the hot tea in one gulp, burning her tongue and gullet but warming her inside. The warmth from the tea only glowed inside her for a short moment before the cold returned.

As soon as they ate a cheerless breakfast of last evening's stew, the three of them headed out of the broken barn and into the icy plains. The plains were unrecognizably filled with great drifts of shining snow, like various miniature cliffs of soft white stone. The small crags were continuous for miles around, broken only by the barn and a small forest in the distance, Rose had seen earlier, in the east. If it were not for the chill and hours of work that lay ahead of her, Rose would dare to call the sight that lay before her stunning. However the hours of digging through the icy cliffs left her drained of energy and feeling quite bitter.

She cursed quietly and pulled back on her damp gloves, any warmth she had gained was lost to cold and dampened wool inside. She took a labored breath, her chest was tight and the frozen air burned its way to her lungs, and she began to dig deeper into her pile of snow.

Their task was hopeless, she knew, as they had traveled past a countless leagues the day before and they could not dwell long enough to dig through miles of snow in this weather. The cold was getting worse as the day went on, it seemed as if Alagaësia itself were laughing at their predicament and took pleasure from making them feel worse.

It was a tedious chore, digging through that snow, and Rose was quite sure she preferred an agonizing day's travel in the icy plains and she was rather relieved when Tornac called for a break.  
"I cannot take this," he said, "my hands feel as if they have been turned to stone and my back aches me. A hot midday meal would be most welcome and, I say, we merit such a luxury on this day."  
Ailis looked up, her face dripping with sweat despite the cold, looking rather irate. She had been curved over and staring intently at the snow covered ground as if she making a fatal choice. She straightened herself, her bones cracking, and stretched her hands to the sky. "If it would please you so," said Ailis tiredly. "I cannot see why you're not making us such a meal as I speak."

Tornac smiled with a sigh and took off his gloves. "I will go then," he said and turned away.

Ailis and Rose continued their work for a long moment before Ailis spoke, "Rose, will you not join him?"

Rose threw a large pile of feathery snow behind her, some of the snow missed its mark and landed inside her cloak where it melted and slid chillingly down her back in small rivulets.

"I was going to continue working with you," said Rose, despite her feelings.

Ailis smiled at her kindly.

"Go warm your hands, Rose. I shall join you soon. I wish to have a moment to myself." Ailis said working on her pile.

Rose dropped her pile as soon as she scooped it up and stood vertical. She shook the icy droplets off her body and walked hurriedly to the tattered barn, the snow crunching underneath the soles of her boots. The short walk turned lengthy as she had to dodge the cliffs of blinding snow and massive scraps of wood. Once inside, Rose rushed to the fire, pulling off her gloves and boots and discarding them next the roasting flames.

Tornac was crouched over a small iron pot stirring the broth inside. He looked up at her as she sat down next to him. His nose and cheeks were rosy and chapped, and his face flushed, his scar was sunken deep into his face giving him a grisly look. Tornac's pale hair hung loose around his face, the ends were wet from the melted snow. He did not smile at her, as he had not since the bitter cold set in days ago, having lost the vigor and civility to do so.

"You're terribly grim this day," commented Rose.  
The old man grunted and leaned back onto his feet. "It is deathly cold and my bones ache me terribly. What is there to not be grim about?"

Rose shrugged and looked into the pot. Inside was muddy brown water with floating dried green and lumps of what appeared to be meat, though Rose was hesitant to call the tough substance "meat". It would not be much of a hot meal.

She chewed on the inside of her cheek before answering.

"It is not snowing and the sun has finally shown face. I am, at the very least, thankful for that," said Rose hesitantly.

Tornac chuckled dourly and continued to swirl the runny stew together.

"I do not believe we shall ever find Ailis' lost egg." Rose said after a short moment.

"Nor do I," said Tornac. "It is a squander of our time to pursue this egg, however, I do not think we might persuade Ailis of these views. For now we shall have entertain her in this hunt until we can no longer fritter away what precise little time we have."

Rose nodded and considered his words. No, they would not be able to convince Ailis that they most continue without the second dragon egg. Ailis was much too suborn and determined to arrive at The Varden with both eggs. At what cost, Rose was not certain. Nonetheless, Rose was convinced that Ailis was correct in her reckoning.

"What Ailis said is truth, Tornac, we cannot leave the missing egg to fend for itself nor can we risk letting Galbatorix from discovering its absence," she said rubbing her hands together over the fire in attempt to recreate the feeling that they had once held. Her toes were just as cold, however, she was sure they could wait.

"Aye," said Tornac, giving her a startled look.

Rose met his eyes and nodded as if to confirm her words before going back to warming her hands.

"You have yet to complain and here I am sounding as if I were but a child," said Tornac after a short moment of silence.

Rose looked up at him and smirked lightheartedly.

"Once an adult and twice a child," she recited.

Tornac laughed lightly and shook his head. "You have changed little in this bedlam. I cannot say am fairing as well."

"You are wrong," said Rose, ignoring his last comment, crossing her arms. "I've complained plenty just not to you or Ailis. If Eowyn could, she would inform you of this."

Tornac laughed dourly once more, before turning back to his stirring. They did not speak for a long time, and Rose took to making certain that the interior of her boots and gloves would be warm and dry by the time they finished their lunch.

"You are right, this is a hopeless task. I only pray that the cold lets up and the snow melts entirely and that the dragon egg is not far so that we may continue on our way," said Rose, breaking the silence.

"As do I," Tornac muttered.

"Tornac, may I ask a question?" asked Rose.

She pulled off her thick damp socks and placed them next to the fire. Soon stream rolled off the wool in plumes. Rose contently reached her feet toward the fire and wiggled her toes as they warmed.

"You may," said Tornac.

He cast an inquisitive expression at her and withdrew the long wooden spoon out of the thin soup. Tornac sat back and crossed his legs placing the spoon across his lap.

Rose looked into the ruby fire, considering her words before speaking.

"What was your reasoning for acting upon Ailis' plot?" Rose asked.

"It was my original job to protect and help guide you. For no other reason did I decide to help Ailis and in return you," said Tornac guardedly.

Rose closed her eyes. "So you do not work for The Varden?"

"Nay," said Tornac.

"Then why were you away for such long lengths of time?" Rose asked.

Tornac sighed and began to stir the stew once more, the spoon dulling clinking against the iron pot. "All in good time, child," he said.

Rose twisted her lips together. She wished he would stop calling her a child, as he said more than once she was no longer an adolescent, and she truly was not.

"Another question then; would you have come if I had stayed in Urû'baen?" She asked.

Tornac raised one of his burly eyebrows at her and shook his head.

"It is my duty to look after you and if you were to stay in Urû'baen than so I would," he said.

Rose scowled into the flicking fire. This was not what she had wanted to hear from Tornac, if he had wished to leave without her than why should he not? Duty or no, he was of free will and should not be following her around so.

"I have upset you," Tornac observed.

"You are not my servant, Tornac. I have none. There is naught binding you to me and so I must ask why you claim such dedications?" Rose demanded.

Tornac stopped his stirring and looked at the youth next to him. For a long moment he studied her critically before turning away. He stirred the thin stew for a short time before rocking back onto his heels and groaning as his back revolted and cracked.

"I have known you far too long to leave you unshielded," said Tornac in wounded voice. "Do not question me so, child, it wounds my pride."

"As you wish," said Rose simply.

She turned away and closed her eyes basking in the warmth the fire produced.

Soon she found that she was dozing off and began to fight the lures of sleep. Rose stood up abruptly and moved to her bedroll there she enveloped herself into the thick wool listening to crackling of the fire, where she soon found herself struggling to stay awake once again, though she happily gave into the assaults of sleep.

She was awoken by the soft padding steps of Ailis and the faint smell of tart stew.

"It did not take her long," Ailis commented.

"No, it did not," Rose heard Tornac reply.

The heat under her wooly blankets was bliss and she was not ready to open her eyes and join their company in the cold world they were currently living in. She shifted and pulled her legs closer to her body taking pleasure in her nap. Her contentment did not last as she soon felt icy fingers comb through her tangled hair.

"Good afternoon, Rose," Ailis said.

Rose yawned and sat up, rubbing her face. She grumbled incoherently and took the bowl of stew that Tornac offered her. The thin stew tasted as succulent as it appeared and the venison was tough and hard to swallow. As Rose ate, Ailis sat silently beside her. Ailis stretched her legs out towards the fire, her feet bare.

"I have found us suitable housing," Ailis said. "It is not far from here and the walls are without holes and roofing is complete."

Tornac looked up from his bowl and chewed on the robust meat. He swallowed. "That is grand news," said he.

"I believe it to be," Ailis tilted her head to the side. "After we eat, it would be for the best that we speak of our predicament. We cannot dig through leagues of snow if we wish to live through this winter, I think." Ailis set her bowl down violently, spilling much of its contents onto the ground. "I can see no way around us searching independently, if only for a few days. It would be best if we thought of a way to do this swiftly, so that we may be on our way. It pains me to think of leaving the dragon egg behind but we will do as we must as time is not our ally."

Tornac sighed from across the fire and rubbed his face.

"I dislike to grasp what you are suggesting, Ailis." Tornac said.

Rose frowned and looked into her murky soup. "It is reckless for us to separate," she said.

"At this time we have little choice. Recklessness is but a small price to pay if it means finding that dragon egg." Ailis said irritability.

"If you say so," said Rose.

They said nothing further until they finished their meal, and after they ate and cleaned the bowls and pot, the three of them packed away their belongings and burdened their steeds once more. They walked leading their horses, as the snow was deep and they wished to find the shelter, Ailis spoke of, while it was still light.

They walked along the swallows of the snowy cliffs down a slight downhill with the sun at their backs. The sun was at its decline and the shadows where beginning to lengthen. In the distance Rose could see a stray silvery fox digging into the snow, and she hoped the fox had more fortune discovering what it was searching for then they have had.

The walked for little over a mile before a small cabin and even smaller barn came into view. The land around the dwelling was piled high with snow and a small creek ran aside it. Past the stream a dark tangle of woodland of fir and oak rose into sky. Tornac and Rose followed Ailis' footsteps to the small barn where they unburdened the horses.

The small barn was in better shape than the one they had left behind. It was shallowly built with sturdy oak and grey stones, and the roofing was light patched. The ground was trampled with a slight dip in the middle where stagnant murky water had collected. It was an apt shelter for the horse for that night, though the doors were missing leaving the lodging open to predators.

They left the barn and made their way to the house. The house was made of the same wood and stone as the barn. It was bare of any life it had once held, the flooring was made of trampled earth and an inglenook lingered beside a small hearth.

"I already checked the hearth, it is clear of soot." Ailis said.

"That is a blessing," Tornac said.

Ailis smiled and turned back to her bags shuffling through them, finally she pulled out a long curved bow and her quiver of arrows. She swung these onto her back and picked up a single small bag. Ailis turned to Tornac. "I will be back in three days time," she said abruptly. "If I am not back take the remaining egg to Kausta and ask for Gien. Tell Gien I have sent you in my place but do not show him the egg. Gien will lead you to The Varden. I have spoken to you before about what you should do in my absence, and I ask that you proceed in that manner we have spoken of." Ailis leaned back on her heels in a way that allowed no dispute.

Rose stood silently looking rather perplexed, not far behind Ailis, fiddling with the hilt of her sword. Ailis whirled around to Rose and embraced her tightly before letting her go hastily and without a word she strode out of the cabin, the door slamming shut behind her.


	6. Side Story 1

_I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
__READ: this is not a chapter update but a drabble. I have decided, mainly for my own enjoyment to do a small short stories once in a while. Some surrounding Selena, Brom, Morzan, Arya (maybe) Eragon different parts of Rose's life, so on and so forth.  
I had fun a lot writing this.  
__Oh, yes, Muirgheal is pronouned just like Muriel. (Mare-ei-ell) __Blah!_  
As always enjoy and tell me what you think.

* * *

_Aiedail_

Dark stains of crimson washed off her pallid hands and muddled into with the pale cobalt stream. Selena watched, her eyes dark with emotion, as the colors danced away in the current. Death had, in the last couple of years, become a significant part her life.

Killing was not an endeavor she took pleasure in, however it was necessary at this time. She had come to accept that when it came to her life or a stranger's the probability was that she would be the one to walk away, and this day happened to be no different.

Her most recent mission had come to an end and so this man's unwarranted death tainted her soul in diverse patches of black. Avoidable was his death, yes, however she did not regret killing his particular man for the man's own voracity was his own undoing. If she had not sent him into the Void the man would find himself there soon enough. His untimely termination only saved her time and anguish.

Selena scowled and stood up. She had a long way to go yet if she wished to reach her destination before night fall, and she could scarcely afford to squander the day away.

In a swift motion Selena wiped her sodden hands off her brown trousers, leaving behind dark trails. With a sudden haste she had not possessed before Selena walked past the remains of a bloodied man and to her mount, crunching dried grass beneath her leather swathed feet. She leapt onto the horse's sloped back and commanded it abrasively before the lightly colored creature bounded down the trail in a mad rush.

Selena lifted her head high, allowing the gale of tepid late summer wind to twist her hair behind her. She grinned widely and let out a loud barking laugh. If only her father could see her now! The old cobbler would be disappointed, of course, and he would be bond to chide her for her unruly behavior before attempting to put her in her place. Selena laughed again at that thought, she was not feeble child she was in Carvahall. No, Selena had grown immensely to the point that if any of Carvahall's villagers had the ill fortune to come across her now, they would hardly recognize the woman that stood before them. Selena entertained herself with this thought, as her mount hastened past the soaring crags of the Spine and into the sparse woodland that lay at its feet.

The stallion was surefooted and galloped with ease. Its lean muscles stretched under its hide saddle and its creamy coat was soon lathered with sweat as the day was heated and the sun gleamed maliciously from high above. The foliage was still lush and green, though specks of grassland were blistered brown and black with their thrust for precipitation. Birds shrilled their afternoon tidings high above, atop their wooded perches

.

Selena allowed her horse to rest more than twice from its strenuous pace. Once along the banks of an unnamed river, again in a lush green valley of waving grass and another time in the dusk of the evening, not far the twisting turrets of a dark fortress.

A curious mixture of dismay and pleasure coursed through her body leaving her more than discontent. Though Selena was fastened with hastiness to return to the castle that acted seldomly as her home, she frequently dreaded the impending encounter with its landlord. The man who took ownership of this citadel was more of a heartless monster than man. Morzan was once the objection of her affection now however, after years of suffering his malice, Selena detested the Rider and all he stood for. Selena strived to do whatever was within her power to overcome the enchantments that bond her to the monstrous Rider, and though she could overcome much of the binding shackles, Morzan held fast into the one object that Selena could not fight against.

Selena sighed angrily and leaned closer to the horse's thick, burly neck urging the creature forth.

It was in the early hours of the humid night, when Selena rounded the corner and crossed under the broad arch of the unbolted gate that lead to Morzan's castle. Immediately the saccharine aroma of jasmine and honey filled her senses and she visibly stiffened. Selena listened for the riotous breaths of the large claret monster that offend occupied the front gardens but when none were heard she sat back into the hard saddle. Her back was beginning to ache slightly from the consent pressure.

The horse clopped across the cobblestone bridge and the wild flowers below swayed in the breeze in greeting. Selena steered the tawny horse the small stone stables, waking a bewildered, beady-eyed stableboy from his slumber before bounding across a large garden and into the darkened castle keep.

The estate itself was older than time, with two rounded towers that dizzily soared into the starry heavens. In-between these adjacent towers stood a grand ache made of tanned stone. Twin gates made of festooned dark wood and metal loomed high above Selena's slim figure. The enchanted doors opened to their own accord permitting Selena into the shadowed antechamber.

Selena sprinted noiselessly down the domed halls and leap up a myriad amount of stairways, noticing little, if not nil, of the castle modest décor. She passed through fastened doorways, whispering curtly in the Ancient Language, before halting before a bowed wooden door. Selena stood panting until her heart slowed and only then did she put her hand on the polished door and push it open.

Before her stood Cordelia, a bird-like woman with a thin face and sinewy pale hair tied into an orderly bun, in her dressing gown looking rather shocked. Selena lifted her chin ignoring Cordelia's unseemly attire. The nursemaid bobbed her head, like a crow, and curtsied awkwardly.

"My lady," Cordelia shrilled, "you were not expected to be back thus swiftly."

Selena smiled lightly and said, "I am here. Step aside, Cordelia."

Cordelia nodded and stood straight, her knobby arms held behind her back. "My lady, I cannot permit you enter at this time," Selena narrowed her eyes and she saw a flash of fear cross the nursemaid's bony face. "At the very least heed my caveat, my lady. An ill-fated mishap has occurred in you absence."

Selena looked over the nursemaid's shoulder. "What is amiss, Cordelia?" The nursemaid only shifted her stance. Selena's eyes narrowed further. "Say quickly, I do not possess the patience tonight," she snapped.

Cordelia shank away slightly before saying a small rushed tone, "A fortnight ago, Master Morzan returned in quite an ire, he was in an ill state, my lady. Fortune frowned upon Little Mistress that night, as she ran across his path." Cordelia shook her head sadly. "In his ailing mind, as he was inebriated, he threw his sword at the girl. The blade cut clean into her flesh, it required more than a great Healer and much luck for her be kept from the Void. However, my lady, his blade left a rather unseemly scar across her back. I was away, my lady, there was little I could do." She said the last part defensively.

Selena hid her reaction and instead looked blankly into Cordelia's beady eyes.

"Is Morzan here?" Selena asked.

Crodelia shuffled, then said, "No, my lady, he had left unexpectedly in the early hours of last morn."

Selena nodded with relief, at the least she would not have to face the Rider for a time.

"Step aside, Cordelia," Selena repeated in an unemotional tone.

Cordelia gulped and ducked her head before hurrying past Selena. The door shut behind her and Selena rushed to the bedside.

The small painted nursery held little adornment, a plush rug in the middle of the wooden floor, a small chest for the child's simple toys, a large canopied bed; with a curtain made of white lace and ribbon, a large unveiled widow that allowed the moonbeams to polish the flooring, and single glass doll sat at the corner of the room atop an embroidered chair close to the roasting fire. Selena ignored these and made her way to the bed, she pushed away the delicate lace and sat upon the bed, looking down at the small sleeping figure who slept quietly.

Her daughter stirred as the bed dipped, her plump hands reached up from underneath the coverlet to her face where she rubbed her eyes. "Ca..del..ah?" She called out with a yawn.

Selena forced a smile and smoothed the child's silky hair away from her face. Selena leaned her head down and brushed her lips across the girl's forehead.

"Nay, little cricket," Selena murmured.

The child's eyes opened wide and she turned to the face her mother wincing at the movement. She blinked once in disbelief before her dark eyes widened and a wide grin spread across her small face. "Mamma?" the child asked.

"Yes, cricket," she said.

The girl's smile widened and she untangled herself from her blankets, crawling her way into her mother's lap. Selena embraced her child gently, and the child did likewise, resting her head against the child's slightly knotted hair. Selena rubbed the child's slim back, feeling a long twisting scar beneath her nightdress. Vehemence unlike anything she had felt before gripped a hold of Selena and she hissed out a breath startling the child she held.

They stayed like this for a long moment listening to each other's breathing. Soon the child began to tug on Selena's braids and the mother knew it was time to let her daughter go. Selena loosened her hold allowing the child to rest in her lap. The child leaned against her torso cradling a loosened braid in her hands and she began twisting the ends of the hair together. Selena watched in silent humor as the child's face twisted in frustration, suddenly she sighed and dropped the braid looking up at her mother's face worriedly.

"What's wrong?" Selena asked. The girl tilted her head to the side but did not answer. "Muirgheal?" Selena asked after a long moment.

"You hurt?" Muirgheal lifted her hand to Selena's forehead and lightly touched her temple.

"No, little cricket, I'm not injured."

Muirgheal nodded, pulling herself up onto her knees causing Selena to wince as her bony knees jabbed into her thighs. The child ran her petite hand over her mother's pinned hair before she yawned and leaned back looking perplexed.

"Who?" Muirgheal yawned.

Selena frowned, she was not going to answer that.

"It's time you go back to sleep, cricket," her daughter promptly began to protest but Selena cut her off. "I will be here when you wake."

The child nodded and crawled back under her coverlet too tired to argue any farther. Selena leaned down and kissed the girl's forehead as her eyes closed. The mother stayed until she was certain Muirgheal had found sleep once more then she left, closing the door softly behind her.

Selena rushed past the halls once more, eager to find fresh air to clear her mind. Eager to see the stars in the darkened heavens, and to smell the crisp night air that was bound to clear her mind.

She was in the gardens running her hands over the silken petals of a red rose when a grunt interrupted her musings.

"Don't be mutilating my hard work, Lady," a gruff voice said.

Selena looked up and smiled softly. "I shalln't."

The man nodded his blue eyes gleaming in the moonlight. He step closer and said in a softer voice, "You are back early. Is something amiss?"

Selena shook her head.

"Nay, Brom," she whispered. "I have missed you."

Brom grunted.

They stood for a short moment in silence, watchful for unwanted eyes.

"Come now, let us talk in private." Selena said.

The two of them walked past the garden of roses, lavender, and dianthus side-by-side with their hands brushing.

Brom looked no different than he had when she first met him, well over two years ago. In the guise of Donet the poor gardener, he had dark ruddy hair and a tanned complexion, a sharp disfigured face sheltered by a grizzly beard that went well past a stumped neck to the chest of a dumpy robust torso. In this way Brom walked with a slight limp on his left side.

"I healed Muirgheal the best I could without risking my exposure," Brom said after a long silence.

"I cannot thank you enough," Selena said at the ground. "It will be a scar that shall last all her life."

"Aye, it will." Brom said. The man looked up into the star filled heavens before heaving a sigh. Selena looked over at him slightly startled. Brom caught her eye and pointed to the east at the brightest star. "See that," he said softly, "the Elves call it Aiedail, the dawn star. Each night Aiedail shines brightly knowing that there will be a new dawn whether or not we will it."

Brom met her gaze and nodded.

Selena smiled slightly and grasped his hand her own and held fast, looking above at Aiedail. She was sure at the moment a new dawn would break and it would be better than the last. In this new age, Selena hoped, much would be able to heal the sins of their past.

* * *

_A/N: I choose Muirgheal as Rose's given name only for it's meaning as it is so close to Murtagh's. Murtagh means 'Protector of the Sea,' whereas Muirgheal means 'Sea Mist'. Both are old Irish.  
__  
_


	7. Side Story 2

_I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
__I'm sorry, but this is another drabble and a sorry one at that. I wanted to write a chapter in almost all dialouge for practice, which is what this is.  
____In this Rose is younger, around 15 or so, and the difference between her in her and in the present time the story is taken place is evident. I didn't intend this to happen but it did and I'm liking it all the more.  
__Well, anyways, enjoy, and tell me what you think._

* * *

_Routes Taken_

It was well past noon when a tall, bird-like woman burst through the doorway into the bed chamber looking rather cross. Cordelia whisked across the large chamber with such hast she nearly stumbled over a discarded tome. She looked up at the sound of her young charge's soft laugh. The girl sat by the grate in an overly stuffed armchair watching Cordelia's gracelessness with clear amusement. Cordelia glared at her charge, who in return smiled back in what Cordelia saw to be a rather devious way.

"What have you done?" Cordelia questioned in a nasally voice.

The girl narrowed her eyes slightly, though her smirk remained.

"I have only paid Lord Lakan the respect he merits," she said gracelessly, her head held high.

"You have reaped nothing but lunacy!"

Rose folded her hands onto her lap and interlaced her fingers. "I have done nothing that should not have ensued," said she.

"He did not warrant your actions, Muirgheal," said Cordelia.

Rose sighed flippantly and said, "He cannot be dead, Cordelia, surely my words did not affect him so."

Cordelia huffed.

"No, he is not," she admitted. "You've but slighted him immensely leaving those who are required to trail you to clean away your calamity."

"I did not ask to be thrown into the mercy of dogs!"

"I did not 'throw you to the dogs', Muirgheal, do not be theatrical," said Cordelia.

Rose took a deep breath.

"He is prude and unjust," came Rose's breathy response.

"Lord Lakan is not as unpleasant as you seem to believe," Cordelia said unkindly.

Rose glowered at Cordelia.

"He is less pleasant than you dilute yourself to believe," Rose responded in kind.

"Muirgheal," she warned.

"Don't start at me," Rose said. "I've had a sufficient piece of drama from Urû'baen's courts for one day."

"And I cannot keep you from the enticements of court, if you seek to insult each noble you happen to cross paths with," Cordelia said in a dreary voice. Her charge glared at her with her jaw set and Cordelia knew that their interaction was not going proceed well, not unless Cordelia push away her antipathy. Cordelia swallowed and closed her eyes suddenly weary. After a short moment in which she was able to calm herself enough to she look back down at her charge and question, "How do you justify your actions?"

"I was not going to allow his advances to continue without my consent," said Rose simply.

"And so you sought to insult the lord in order to impel him away?" Cordelia asked, the irritation in her voice was once again evident.

Rose's dark eyes flashed at the accusation and she lifted her chin, her jaw set obdurately.

"It was not my intention to offend him!"

"That may be, but because your cheek I have spent the last three hours attempting to reverse some of the damage you have wrought," Cordelia said.

Rose shrugged indifferently and looked away into the fire.

"I will not repent," said Rose softly.

"You have poked at an ant's nest, Muirgheal, only find it filled with hornets," Cordelia said heatedly.

"Lord Lakan is less of a hornet and more of a maggot," said Rose with an indifferent wave of her hand.

"Muirgheal!" Cordelia exclaim. The nursemaid clasped her hands over her mouth, her diminutive eyes widened with distress.

"Oh, please, Cordelia," Rose said surly, watching the flickering of the flames, "Lord Lakan hardly contains the valor to seek retribution."

When Cordelia did not respond, Rose looked up to see the nursemaid studying her impassively.

"It is good fate," Cordelia said slowly, "that I am not your mother, young lady." Once again Rose looked back into the fire in the grate and Cordelia stormed away to the door and opened it, stepping through. She then looked back at Rose and scowled her thin lips vanishing from her pasty face. "If you keep at the path you have set down, you soon find yourself but a mere reflection of your parents," said she, before closing the door behind her.

Rose looked up astonished at Cordelia's harsh words, before looking down studying the floorboards. For a short time she stayed like this before she suddenly stood clutching a book her hands. In impulsive fury she tossed the book into the fire and watched as the flames sputtered and climbed high up into flue. Immediately she regretted her hasty choice in the destruction of the literature. She watched on with shame as the heated flames curled and blackened the thin pages until they were no more. _I am not going down the path my parents took,_ Rose decided as the fire popped, _it has become far too crowded for my taste._


	8. Chapter 6

_I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
__What a challenge! I'm rather proud of this chapter and a little anxious.  
The grapevines were highly inspired by my mother and her tales of being a child.  
As always, enjoy and tell me what you think._

* * *

**Following a Fey**

Tornac was kneeling with his back facing Rose, striking two stones together over a neat stack of tinder. Each clank that the stones, that were made as they collided, echoed throughout the hallow cabin in an arbitrary rhythm. As he assaulted the stones, Rose had taken to one of her book, studying only the graceful structure of words. She could hardly bear the idea of reading as it appalled very little to her, however she could find nothing better to occupy her time at that moment. Her lack of chores was a relief at in the beginning but it led her to be sitting on the hard ground and gaze down uncomprehendingly at the fine ink while listening to Tornac's struggle.

Tornac coughed loudly and struck the stones thrice more, on the third time instead of striking again the man leaned forth and blew on the tender. Rose looked up as a soft warm glow that signaled a fire took place. Tornac sat back on his heels for a short moment before standing and refueled the fire. Rose then watched him silently as he made his way to his bags and dug though them, he pulled out the cooking ware and sauntered back to the fire. Tornac placed the ware around the fire before seeming to think better of it and turned away.

Tornac met Rose's gaze, his ice-blue eyes were dark and unreadable. Rose shifted on the hard ground and lifted her chin slightly. Tornac sighed heavily and shook his head at the ground.

"I cannot say I am pleased with Ailis' choice to leave," Tornac said. "It seems to me it was made with haste and only misfortune will come from it."

"She told you what to do in her absence," said Rose. "Why is that?"

"Ailis is precautious." Tornac scratched his forehead.

"And yet if any tribulation were to happen to you in Ailis' lack of presence what would become of me?" Rose narrowed her eyes at the old swordmaster. "Ought I meander across the wilderness until the end of my mortality and idly pray that some mysterious force shall guide me and the remaining dragon egg to safety? Whether that be back to Galbatorix or The Varden? Surely both would be less than pleased to discover Morzan's daughter with their precious dragon egg. What should I do then, Tornac?"

For a short time he was quiet then Tornac scowled and rubbed his head. "You are referring to the fact that if Ailis were to disappear and, gods' forbid, myself, of course," he said calmly. "Well, if Ailis were to pass into the Viod or vanish, I would tell you much of what she has told me. I would guide you to the road instead of wondering this wildland as Ailis has taken to. I would teach you whatever I might before the Void took me as well and if this were to happen, and I pray it shall not, I would not depart from you unprepared. Nay, Rose, I could not do such."

Rose twisted her fingers together and glowered at the ground. Tornac's answer covered little of her qualms. "If both you and Ailis were to leave at once," she began, however Tornac interpreted.

"_If _is a futile word, created only to trouble the minds both young and old. Cast the word from your wits, it is hopeless to ponder over it. Focus instead on what is, child, and you shall discover your mind to be a more composed place," said Tornac. He was silent for a short time, then as is deciding on something he stood up and slid his sword from its scabbard. "Come now, we must not misuse this time Ailis granted us."

Rose was given scarcely enough time to stand and rise her blade in defense before Tornac's assault. His swings were more firm and dexterous that night, leaving her with trembling limbs and struggling, as she had weeks ago, to keep a grip on the hilt of her sword. For well over an hour Rose braced herself as best she could against his beset. Both Tornac and Rose were frequently blinded by the shining blades flashing gaily in the glow of the fire light for brief moments before they collided together with a vibrating _cling!_

Only when the sun met the earth so that its amiable rays of light could glitter about the snow, much like fine diamonds, did Tornac call for them to halt. Rose sheathed her sword clumsily as her hands were shaking turbulently and pressed her palms against her knees to steady them.

"Better," Tornac commented between deep breathes. "You've improved significantly however you lack vigor and balance."

Rose breathlessly looked up at him, annoyance evident in her features. A droplet of brackish sweat stung her eyes making them water and thick strings of hair stuck to her damp face, these she tucked behind her ears. Rose huffed and sat down promptly and became vaguely lightheaded in her haste. "That's splendid," she growled crossly, "perhaps now I'm capable of guarding myself against a rat."

Tornac unhurriedly wiped his blade clean with a rag before placing it in back in his scabbard. "Perhaps," he said.

Rose glowered at him before turning away. She leaned over to her bags and dug through them before taking to her book once more, heeding little mind to Tornac's doings.

After a time, she couldn't help but hear the loud thumps his boots hitting the ground as he walked back and forth across the cabin clicking and clinging of metal against metal; the crackling of fire as it was fueled and the shutting of a rickety door and his retreating thumps that faded into silence. Rose focused again on the pages until she heard Tornac return and cross the earthen floor of the cabin with the sloshing sound of water in a bucket before setting up the cooking ware.

Not long after the cook ware was set up Tornac took a seat not far from where Rose sat. He then began to dig through his bags, pulling out varies objects and placed them in front of him. He counted his belongings in hissing whispers before repacking them. When a bubbling of a rolling boil could be heard Tornac got up to care the dark grey pot.

Rose continued in her reading until she saw a pair of dirtied black boots in front of her. As she glanced up, Tornac bent down and placed a wooden cup filled with sweet smelling tea next to her leg. She murmured her thanks and looked back down at the pages of her book.

"When was the last time you played?" Tornac asked unexpectedly, when the steam had ceased billowing from the cups, "If I'm correct in my reckoning you pledged a ballad to me."

"I don't recall promising to _sing_ to you, Tornac," Rose said without looking up.

"I should pray not. I don't believe my ears would cope with a noise, such as that," Tornac said in jest. "Yet you promised me a song."

Rose looked up and set her book to the side. Rose knew this trick all too well, Tornac would continually request her make music with her viol back in Urû'baen knowing all too well, that she would quickly forget her troubles in her work.

"You are a relentless old man, Tornac," Rose grumbled marking her page with a length of cord as she stood up.

She walked over to where a small pile of her bags were and bent down, untying her viol case. She unwrapped the smooth wooden instrument from its soft cloths, leaving the stung bow behind. Then she made way her over to Tornac, her were footsteps loud on the hard ground, and slouched down beside him. With her bowed viol across her lap she spent a long minute plucking at and tuning five of the seven fine, crisp strings until content with the tone. Rose strum a simple tune, before moving on to a more complex song.

While playing, Rose thought back to her time in the capital city, Urû'baen, and how she had once spent many nights doing precisely what she was doing at that moment. With Tornac sitting not far from her, much as he did now, listening mutely to whichever melody she pursued to practice, although now her playing was clipped with unpractice, and the roasting fire that flickered livingly in the hearth. She was content in that moment, with that sense of familiarly, and much of her annoyance that was created by the jealous secrets were dulled until they were but a forgotten injury.

The rest of that night was peaceful and soon dawn came gracing the world with its golden radiance. Gleaming rays of light streamed through a single small framed window, waking both Tornac and Rose early in the morning hours. Teary eyed and yawning Rose awoke reluctantly and unfolded herself from the thick layers of blankets and wraps. After the two of them had gotten around and bathed theirselves, privately, with warm dampened rags and a meager breakfast was consumed, Tornac employed most of the day tutoring Rose on her swordmanship. After sparing both inside the cabin and out, near the small forest that bordered the small sables, Tornac lead Rose into the forest to demonstrate the advantages that might be taken in the woodland. The information enthralled Rose and she paid keen attention to what Tornac had to say. When Tornac pulled a supple limb of a yew back before releasing it, allowing it glide through the air like a sideways arrow with its flat, dark green needles rustling flatly, Rose asked; "This trickery is considered disreputable, correct?"

Tornac snorted. "Some would say."

"Then why bother with it? Isn't there a code of honor swordmen abide by?" She inquired wiping the snow off her cloak that fell from the towering trees above.

"Admirable combat means naught in your grave," he objected before continuing with what his lecture.

By the end of that day Rose's head was bustling with the knowledge Tornac had bestowed on her, yet, her body ached from the activity she had been put through, and so when the sun set she willingly lay onto her bedroll and swiftly fell asleep. Her sleep was deep and dreamless until she awoke abruptly in a frantic state.

Her breathing was labored and shallow and her face was covered with sticky sweat. She gasped loudly noting with great shock that there was a sharp burning feeling between her shoulder and chest. The pain was unlike anything she had ever felt before, it felt almost as if it were sapping her liveliness from her. When Rose reached up and touched her shoulder she both cringed and gasped loudly when she came in contact with scorching metal. Wondering at what could heat the amulet so, Rose pulled at golden necklace away from her skin and studied it closely. Seeing nothing amiss she arranged the chain atop her thickly woven tunic and she sat up taking in her surroundings.

She had been woken in the cold hours, not long, before sunup when a pale mist still clung opaquely to the snow, which blanketed the hardened ground, drifting swirlingly when a gentle breeze blew. Pale yellow moon beams gleamed luminously onto the cold earthen flooring, of the cabin, bright as a gloomy day in shades of grey and pale indigo. A long lump that was Tornac was resting on his back fast asleep, his quiet even breaths could be heard and, Rose saw amusingly that, he was drooling lightly.

Fingering the oval pendant with chariness Rose found that it was no longer hot to the touch. She frowned, thinking that perhaps she had imagined the whole ordeal but the small burn on her shoulder warned her against such. Rose shook her head to clear her ming and stood up. Suddenly lucid from the brusque air she dressed warmly and she slipped out into the night eager to move about and warm her body.

The snow, that crushed crisply beneath her feet with each step, reflected the full moon mutedly. Rose exhaled and watched as her white breathe vapor whirl simultaneously with the haze in the night. Yawning, she staggered to the iced over rivulet at the edge of a snow covered woodland, her skin wincing at the icy air. She hunched her thick cloak around her shoulders and scarcely glanced at the vaguely lit trees. The woodland was hardly gloomy as it was well lit by the rounded moon. The fog was diluted where the trees loomed high above and the ground was blanketed with brittle snow. There were no birds singing about high in their nest of trees, it was likely they were still slumbering. Rose sneezed and turned away drawing her hood over her head, her hair caught in the thick fabric and pulled lightly at her scalp. In the corner of her sight she saw a strange light in the distance, a fey blue wisp that simmered and vanished. Rose turned and stared past the trees for a second time, wondering if her mind was playing tricks on her for the second time that night.

The light tauntingly appeared a short distance from where it had disappeared and began to glide away. Rose watched as the light stopped and flickered as if beckoning her forth. As she took a wary step forth the bizarre wisp shot away at an unbelievable speed. The light stopped yards ahead and flickered twice. Enchanted by the strange light, Rose continued into the woods slowly. The wisp stayed just out of her reach, hovering a few feet over the ground before it gradually began to increase its pace until Rose was at a fast jog.

Rose did not know how long she spent chasing after the light scuttling around countless trees of yew, birch and oak but somewhere deep within the forest the light flickered and vanished. She came to a stop, panting desperately for air. Rose placed her hands on her abdomen pressing hard against a side-stitch and crouched close the ground. Her chest was coldly burning for air and her legs ached terribly from the strain of the run.

During the time of the unusual light's pursuit, the sun had risen in the east and was now climbing high into the heart of the sky. It seemed that the endless cold had finally broken as the day no longer brought only numbness but instead new warmth extended down from the heavens. Only an intense bitter wind remained from the previous chill, bowing the trees and scattering about crystal flakes of snow.

From the lofty trees, thick warped cords of wild grapevines clung limply to skeletal branches swinging lightly from the airstream. Below the swaying grapevines, a thin waning trail of a diminutive herd of deer imprints voyaged amiably down a precipitous hill and onwards to the icy banks of a mire where they faded from sight. The cliff-like incline was banked with escaping spiked undergrowth and linked vines of brier. Rose noticed also that there was a rotting pail at the roots of a maple tree, forgotten years before.

The wildlife was now alert and many squirrels scattered atop branches discarding clusters of snow in their wake and the birds sang harmoniously from a hidden location. Rose listened to the bird's twittering composition until her panting regulated into soft even breaths, she then stood hunched and eyed the winter forest about her warily.

Rose could not identify what had taken possessed her when she had pursued after the light. It was an eccentric thrill, a summoning maybe. The only way she could think to describe it was that, it was a weird and wonderful energy that had drawn her onward, one that she could not battle against, one that she did not wish to. The sensation that had inebriated Rose had parted with the wisp, replacing it was an unpleasant twinge.

Rose ignored her aching side and straightened further. She looked behind her, and to her relief, saw a path of prints impressed into the layer of snow from her boots. She would have a way to return to the cabin when she wished to do so. It would be a long walk to the cabin she knew and the walk would seem longer as her stomach fiercely ached with hunger pangs. Rose shuttered and looked about for something to distract her mind. The only idea that pursued her mind was a faint memory from her childhood and so she looked to the thickly coiled grapevines with interest. Rose stepped forward and ran her hand over a swooping rough surface of one of the leaner vines.

She recalled that as a child she would ride horseback beside Tornac, and occasionally Cordelia, under the emerald tree limbs of a small woodland. The woods lined the back of the capital walls, and in the sweltering temperature of the summer months it teemed contently with life. There was more than one occasion when Rose would see a cluster of grubby children scaling high in the foliage eating the grapevine's plump fruit before swinging rowdily down from careless vines. At a time she voiced her desire to join the children in their games but her request continuously fell on deaf ears and soon Rose stopped inquiring the matter until it was forgotten altogether.

Fingering the bark-like vine, Rose curiously yanked downwards on the vine before leaning back, her head facing the sky, testing her weight. She stayed like this for a long moment swinging lightly on the tips of her toes, allowing the sunbeams to fondle delicately across her face and the breeze sweep through her loosely knotted hair. The ropey vine held firm, and so she released it stepping backwards a little over a yard away. Rose tested her ground, much like she would before sparing with Tornac, and took a running leap at the browned vine. When the vine was close to her, Rose reached out and clasped onto it firmly.

The vine lurched forth violently, creaking and groaning in effort, before it buckled and retorted. Rose grip slackened with shock as the vine pitched backwards and crackled. She cried out as her hands tore down the jagged vine, feeling as if a hundred blazing blades were slicing her skin to tatters.

Rose involuntarily let go of the grapevine crashing forward to the frozen terrain below. The snow offered little cushion when she painfully clashed with the inclined earth where she promptly began to roll towards the marsh below.

Through Rose hardly see as white earth and brown lined sky blended together, she glaringly grabbed at the first branch she came in contact with, merely to yowl as it bit into the raw blistered skin of her hands. Despite the pain, she reached out to each branch or bedded rock within arm's reach, tearing the injured skin of her hands further. Her body jerked limply against small stones and bushes riddled with sharp thorns and she felt her hair tear from her head until it throb with an astute stabbing pain. A strange feeling of warmth swathed her head though she could find no cause for it.

The curt fetters of gravity, grasped ahold of her body and held fast despite her ongoing struggle. Rose could no longer form a thought as agonizing clutches ailed her mind, so that soon only pain forbid her from acting. A foreign notion crossed her mind that she might continue in this way endlessly, and not a moment after Rose thought this she crashed into a body of water.

Rose soon came to a stop and she came to realize that she was at the bottom of the hill and in the swamp below. The marsh was shallow, but despite this she breathed in the muddy water. Her body acted on its own accord and she breathed in the water once more before she was racked with violent coughs. Rose slowly sat up and placed her head between her knees letting the water work its way out. After a long moment the coughing ceased and she began to rasp painfully. Tears trekked down her face adding further moister for the blustery wind to freeze. Her tangled hair froze to her cheeks and clung to the inside of her mouth and nose. After an unbearable time, the gasping came to an end and she was able to breathe without great rush.

Rose bought her hands away from her face, which she was cradling without knowing of her own actions, and stared at the maimed skin. She stared numbly at her torn palms, as red sticky blood run down and around her fingers. Rose shifted her weight onto her knees and looked towards the source of boots crunching on frozen pebbles.

The person, whoever they might be, was of tall stature concealed heavily by a thick fur-lined cape. The individual walked with a slight hobble that was aided by a long wooden staff. Beside the knobbed rod was a regal sturdy-bodied hound bounded near the figure joyfully, its ears flapping as it walked.

"This is fine weather for a swim, is it not?" Called out the man, for it was a man, in a deep humored voice.

Rose slowly stood up and called in a loud voice, "Who are you?"

The dog barked stridently at a bush and bounced off towards it.

"I be who I be," he answered loudly. "Name yerself, mistress of the march."

She sniffed and rubbed her hands together, nearly crying out as shards of hot pain shot up her arms. "I'd rather not," Rose said stiffly.

"Fair enough," the man said with a shrug. He came to a halt a distance from her and studied her from underneath his furred hood. Rose stiffened and held his unseen gaze. "By gods," he exclaimed, "you're quivering like a leaf. I know you don't know me but by camp is but a short walk. I promise you warmth and a hot meal, maybe even something for that cut on yer head. Sound good?"

Rose glared at him with distrustful evident on her face. "No."

Rose could see little of his face as it was concealed by shadow, but she imaged him to be smirked at her in a witty manner as he said, "Enjoy catching yer death."

The man then called to his dog, which galloped toward him with a pile of debris in its mouth and together they strode away.

Rose knew she had very little choice, she was hurt, cold, hungry and injured, and though she trusted this man not, he offered her warmth and a chance to heal a little before returning back to Tornac. She dreaded the thought because she knew Tornac would give her an ear full and Rose was not ready to face his wrath as of yet. And so for the second time that day, Rose actions reflected foolishness as she pursued after the stranger.


	9. Chapter 7

___I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
I did research before writing this chapter- the method to slivers out of your skin, is a old farmers treatment and I thought it was kind of cool.  
Dunion is pronouced Dun-in  
Enjoy,_

* * *

**The Hunter and His Bow**

Rose sat with her legs tucked underneath her in front of the stranger, her left hand resting in his large palms. She flinched each time he traced his fingers over her mutilated palm. His hands were rough and callused.

The man let out a low whistle. His dog looked up at the sound and watched them with dark, curious eyes.

"I don't know where to begin," he admitted.

Rose blinked and swallowed.

"A starting would be nice," Rose said.

The stranger chuckled bleakly and released her hand, Rose drew her hand back and set it on her lap, her palms facing the sky. He stood up and walked around the flickering campfire, picking up a discarded pot. The man strolled near his dog, which arose and began to trot behind its master, to the edge of the campsite where he began to heap handfuls of supple snow into the metal pot.

The stranger's acrimonious encampment was a small paddock covered with trampled snow where a small faded caravan rested facing the riverbed. The caravan's overhang was strung with a thick colored twine and hung from the cords were colored glass bottles that swayed in the breeze. A heated fire spat and sputtered not far from the caravan. Nearby, at the edge of the glade, two mismatched horses grazed on crisp turf.

Rose shivered in her damp clothes and hugged her arms around her chest.

The man strode back to the fire, next to Rose, and placed the pot on top a small iron grill over the flame. He then unfastened his cloak and draped the thick fabric over her shoulders. Rose muttered her thanks and curled into the cloak, huffing at the bitter stink of alcohol as it burned her nose.

The man nodded and rushed to the caravan swinging the squeaking door open, shooing the dog away. He lifted himself inside. The caravan rocked fiercely and dipped with his weight. For a long period of time he could be heard banging objects together and rummaging inside the small shelter.

Shortly after the man shut himself inside the caravan, his dog walked toward Rose and lay down an arm's length away. Rose leaned forward and reached out with her right hand to the dog. The dog looked down at her palm and made a sound similar to a grunt as it sniffed her fingers with its brown moist nose before licking its chops. When the dog laid down and crossed its paws, Rose scoot closer to it and rubbed its velvety ears with her naked fingers. The dog closed its small black eyes as Rose scratched it behind its ears, fingering its soft feathered coat. Rose continued to massage the dog the best she could without hurting her wounds until the dog got up and bound toward the caravan. Rose followed the dog's movement with her eyes and saw that the stranger had exited the caravan and was making his way toward them, a brown stained oblong, half-full bottle in one hand and bandages, a misshapen russet potato, along with a small grey clay jar in the other.

The man kneeled in front of her and lifted the pot off the grill and set in between them, on the dirt ground. "Soak yer hands in there," he said pointing to the pot.

Rose leaned forward and peered into the rough pot. Inside most of the snow had melted but large portions of slush drifted formlessly on the surface.

Loosening her hold on the cloak, Rose dipped her hand into the tepid water, wincing as the coarse snow-slush grazed her sores and cuts. Rose looked up and watched the man as he worked.

His face was arresting; still in its youth however lost was the childish plumpness, the countenance of a man of perhaps twenty-five years. He was high-cheekboned, with a firm mouth and large, deep-set eyes.

He looked up and caught her gaze unsympathetically.

"Dunion," he said, laying the potato on a flat rock.

Rose faltered. "Pardon?"

He pulled a long hunting knife from his belt.

"My name," he sighed drastically, "You should know it so that you can thank me properly. I get pleasure from many things, but I prefer wealth so don't be hesitant to send yer father's gold my way."

Rose blinked and stared at him in astonishment, taken back by his boldness. Never has she been spoken to in such a way, and she felt her temper rise.

Rose took a deep breath to compose herself and sat back.

"My father has no gold," Rose said emotionlessly, watching him slice the potato into long slices.

Dunion smiled cheerfully at her. His smirk only grew wider as Rose glowered back at him. "He must," said he in confidence.

He placed the lengthy blade back on his belt and leaned forward, drawing one of her hands out of the water. The man picked up and placed the acrid white potato flesh onto her hands. She gasped and pulled her hand against his grip in shock when the contact burned and stung, but the man's grip held fast and she could not break free. He looked up at her warningly and then looked back down at her hands before continuing his work.

"You do not know me, stranger, therefore do not say what my father does and does not take ownership in."

"You know," Dunion said as he began to wrap the potato and her hand in the bandages, "you noble ladies can rub as much dirt and grime on you as you want, but you can't ever hide what you are. Yer kind act too mighty and always speak in twisted tongues. It's sickening. So when will I get my gold, lady?"

"Gold for what?" Rose scoffed.

"My services, lady!" He cried, pulling at her hand. Rose cried out as his thumbs pressed onto a deep cut. "I just saved yer life, yer obliged to pay me!"

"You didn't revive me and even if you did I have nothing to give you as imbursement," Rose said impassively.

Dunion cursed briskly and tied the potato padded dressings securely. He then abrasively grabbed her left wrist out of the pot and positioned the raw white flesh of the potato onto her palm. He looked up from his work twice to glance at Rose in displeasure but he did not speak again until he was close to complete with wrapping her hand, in a less than gentle fashion. "No gold?" He asked finally.

Rose winced as he pulled the dressings taut.

"No," she said in a high voice, "I have no gold."

Dunion swore again and he was not as swift in holding his tongue as before. At the sound of its master's aggravation the bronze and white spattered dog stood up and sprung toward them. It placed its paws on Dunion's lap and whined. "Go away, Wolf," he said, pushing the dog down.

The dog, Wolf, whimpered but obeyed and laid down, its backside pressing against Dunion's thigh. Almost absent mindedly, Dunion began to scratch Wolf's furry head.

"His name is Wolf?" Rose asked while watching the dog's stubbed tail wag avidly.

Dunion looked up at her scowling, "Her name is Wolf."

"That's a fitting name," said she looking at the dog's petite body.

Dunion grunted.

"I've set out some dry clothes for you, Lady," he said taking a long draft from his bottle. "I set 'em on the cot. You should get dressed and cleaned up before I take 'em spuds off you. You can eat lunch with me and Wolf. Then if you like I'll lead you back to yer path."

Rose stood up slowly. Her legs still ached from her morning run.

"Will you not require your clothing back?" She asked.

Dunion pulled his top lip up in a snarl and took another gulp of his liquor.

"Nay," he said, "You can have 'em, they an't mine, lady." He said with a tone of twisted humor.

Rose looked away and cautiously walked past him to the grimy caravan. She placed her hand on the peeling door and turned to look at Dunion, she watched him take another long draft from his bottle, which was likely filled with liquor, and she turned away.

When Rose pushed open the door it groaned in protest and she lifted herself up into the inside of the caravan.

A bitter stench was the first thing Rose noticed about the caravan, it burned her nose and assaulted her senses. She cringed and tried to considerate on breathing through her mouth. The caravan was small and cramped. Utensils and belongings were thrown everywhere, and bottles of oil and grains and pickles were stacked at the far end near narrow bunks. There were bright cloths thrown onto the floor and on top of cabinets and hand-carved ornaments and wooden toys. Rose picked up a little man made of white wood and held it on her padded palm of her hand.

There was no sign of children outside, or any other person other than Dunion for that matter. She took a deep breath and shuddered. The quicker she left the campsite and Dunion behind her, the better.

Dropping the figurine back onto the floor, Rose slowly made her way to the back of the cramped caravan, careful so that she did not step on anything. Placed on the bed was a pan filled with clear liquid and a cloth, and as Dunion promised some clothes: a long dark green shirt under a thin wool belt and a pair of trousers and a jerkin knitted of raw goat's wool and a stoutly woven cloak with significantly stitched animals embroidering the hood and sleeves, along with a sizable cloth rucksack. Carefully, Rose undressed and set her soiled clothing within the rucksack. She cleaned off the mud on her body thoroughly, wary of her tender sores. Then she slipped on the square-necked shirt and tied the belt slackly around her waist before slipping on the trousers and jerkin and lastly the cloak. Getting dressed took a longer time than she would have liked, she was slowed by her hands and she often dropped the article she was putting on.

While dressing Rose had unthinkingly kicked her boots under the ledge of the bed and when she went to proceed to put them on she could not find them. After a moment of glancing around the caravan, she leaned down on her hands and looked under the bed. The nook was too swathed in shadow to see into and so Rose blindly reached her hands inside the alcove and felt around. It did not take long for her pull out a single boot, this she set aside and dug in deeper. Her hand came across something wet and she cringed but kept searching, the next object she touched was cool and smooth like hardened silk and it rolled away noisily as soon as she reached for it. Rose gasped and blinked before reaching in deeper. Feeling for the object with the tips of her fingers, she ducked her head underneath the eave and searched until she felt it and grabbed at it. It rolled away again and she tucked herself in deeper. After a short moment she felt it again but before it had the chance to roll away she grabbed ahold of it with both hands. Rose pulled herself out and stared at the oval object for a long moment in disbelief. She shook herself and reached in for her other boot, which she found at the very back of nook. Rose dragged her boot out with difficulty, almost hitting her head on the base of the bed.

Rose stood up and pulled the pack off the bed and drew out her moist clothing. She leaned over and studied the object from under the bed. It was unfeasible to believe that the lost dragon egg could have ended up in this place, so far from where Ailis had lead Tornac and herself, and for Rose to come across it, here in this unlikely place, was impossible. Rose shook her head. This day did not make sense.

Impossible was the fact that she would chase after a fey wisp, only to end up with tribulation and then proceed to be aided by a strange, the very person who just happened to have the one object that she and her party were hopelessly searching the wilds for.

There was something amiss and Rose could not distinguish what it might be but it put a disturbing knot in her gut.

If she could get some answers perhaps she make a logical conclusion about what was happening, however she could not. She could not ask Dunion how he had come across the egg as Rose did not want him to know she found it and planning on returning to her company with it.

Rose scowled up at the ceiling, would Dunion chase after her when he discovered her theft?

Straightening her back Rose carefully wrapped the egg in her soiled clothing ensuring that every inch of its ruby surface was veiled before placing it within the sack. With the egg wrapped it was too big for the rucksack, and she fastened it as much as she could but the corner of her cloak hung out from the opening.

Rose slung the rucksack onto her back, under the cloak, and slipped her arms through the rope straps and weaved her way to the entrance of the caravan cursing herself for leaving her sword behind at the cabin. Halfway to the wobbly wood door, Rose looked around and dug randomly through a number of chests until she came across a hunting-knife with a blade as long as her hand, which she tucked underneath her jerkin.

Outside, Rose saw Dunion roast a slab of red meat on a wooden stake and that Wolf was off in the trees. Rose walked over to the fire but did not sit down. Dunion looked up at her with an irritated expression.

"Lunch," he said waving his hand at the meat.

Rose swallowed the salvia that had gathered in her mouth at the smell of the roasting food.

"I can see that," Rose said with a frown. She fingered the cord of the bag with uncertainly and she asked, "Was the bag meant for me?"

Dunion scowled and looked at her across the fire. "If it weren't for you, lady, I wouldn't of set it out."

Rose narrowed her eyes and looked at the ground.

"Thank you," she said mordantly, handing Dunion the fur-lined cloak he let her borrow earlier, which he took and immediately wrapped himself in.

"Yer very welcome, Lady Marsh," he said, matching her tone. "Now come here, so I can deal with yer hands."

Rose made her way over to him and sat as far from him as could be within arm's length. Dunion unwrapped her hands quickly and without word. He slowly pulled off the potato meat tossing it into the air at Wolf, who hurried over not long after Rose sat down. Wolf caught each slice of potato and gulped it down. When each of her hands were free of the potato slices, and to her amazement the slivers, Dunion massaged a creamy, foul smelling salve, from the grey jar he brought out earlier, onto her palms and rebound with them same fabric as before.

As soon as Dunion announced he was complete with his task, Rose moved away. Dunion took her skittishness as cue to pull the meat from the fire. He cut the meat on the same flattened stone as the potatoes, into three pieces. The first hunk of meat he tossed to Wolf and the second he handed Rose a piece with his fingers. Rose took and toyed with the charred veal until she saw Dunion take a bite, only then did she bite into the tough meat herself. The meat was dry and difficult to chew but flavorful and satisfying.

Neither of them talked while they ate, both wrapped up in their own thoughts. When Dunion had finished with his share he licked his fingers, Rose watch this action in repugnance. When he stood up and belched loudly, Rose only stared at him with her mouth agape.

Dunion stretched himself out, bowing his back and whistled loudly to Wolf. He then strode to the caravan and around to the back, coming back moments later with a long hunting knife, a bow slung across his back and a quiver of arrows. He looked to Rose, who was watching his movements anxiously, and beckoned her forth.

Rose took a last mouthful of the meat and stood as well.

"Listen, lady," he said, "I have some hunting to do and you need to get back to yer father and his pretty estate. So here's the deal, I guide you to a trail and then you go home and if yer father decides he does in fact have some crowns lying about after all, you'll send 'em my way, yeah?"

Rose nodded, her eyes narrowing. She was not going to argue with this man any longer.

He grinned at her happily and walked to a well worn trail that the edge of the camp.

Dunion was quiet throughout the hike though clearly impatient. Wolf, was the opposite of its owner, bounding through the woods with her tail wagging and nose pressed to the ground snorting at trees and bushes. Rose followed close behind in matching silence, grasping the handle of her knife.

After a period of time, Dunion came to a stop at the top of an incline.

"If you stay along the river," he said, pointing to the steep hill where not far below a stream flowed steadily without signs of ice, "you will find yer trail from before. Keep the hill to yer right and you'll be fine."

"Thank you," she nodded.

Dunion looked behind him and turned away. "Take care, lady," he said.

"Farewell," Rose said.

Dunion called for Wolf once more and went back the way they had come. Rose watched him in silence, until she saw him fade from view and then she set down the diminutive trail the dragon egg swaying from inside the sack.


	10. Chapter 8

___I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
Enjoy this chapter...  
_

* * *

**Legacy**

Following Dunion's advice, Rose kept the steep incline to her right.

She weaved around yews and birches, under draping grapevines and past ancient oaks and their undergrowth that dotted beneath the mighty tree's countless branches. Watching for when the winding river morphed into marshland, Rose walked on.

The sky was a very pale blue with little warmth to it and a chilling breeze continued to blow steadily. It was good weather for walking.

Rose strode on, pulling the cool air into her lungs listening to the birds squabbling unseen in the brushwood around her and the crunching of the footfalls. Once she heard the baying howl of a dog in the far distance, and Rose thought of Wolf, the stranger's small hunting partner. There was little other sound: for the first time in her life, Rose was completely alone, with no other human being in call. It was a strange feeling, both liberating and unsettling.

She walked until nightfall, when she thought that she should have come across her trail from earlier that day. There was no evidence of her footprints or earlier struggle with the grapevine and the slim river still ran strong. Rose sat abruptly onto the ground and placed her head in her hands. It could not be true, but she knew it was. She was lost in wilds with a dragon egg. The irony her situation was not lost to her, and she laughed grimly. Had she not said only days before that she did not wish to be trekking through the wilds alone and without direction, yet, here she was doing exactly that.

She sat for a long time while the night grew colder. Her lips were parched and cracked and her body was aching with hunger. But she had no water to drink and no food to eat…

She sat unmoving, sunk in hopelessness, and it was only when she shifted to ease the aches in her body that she realized that she had to get the dragon egg to Ailis no matter the cost. In a sudden haste she fumbled the pack off her shoulders and started trying to open it, her fingers were starting to numb from the chilling, and they kept slipping off the fastening. Eventually she got the pack open and pulled out the dragon egg. She hugged it close to her chest, knowing it would no use to wander in the woods with only the dim light of the moon to guide her.

Eventually Rose remembered the river and she stood placing the egg back into the pack. She walked over to the steep hill and picked her way, slowly and painfully down the slope, holding onto branches of trees for balance. Every time she slipped on the snow or a loose rock tilted from her weight, Rose thought she would go crashing down again. She pushed these notions aside with an effort of will and concentrated her mind solely of the present: this step and the next step. After a lengthy effort she reached the bottom. She looked up at the sheer mound, thinking that it give the impression of a slipshod precipice.

Rose turned away and stepped towards the flowing river. She stared at the water for a short moment watching the distorted reflection of the spherical white moon. Making up her mind, she unwrapped the bandages of her left hand, knowing that it was in a healthier state than her right. She braced herself for the icy water, but still she cringed violently when she made contact. Letting the water rinse away the salve, she soaked her hand for a short time. When she could no longer stand the burning cold, Rose cupped her hand and brought it out. She sipped the water, marveling at its freshness before dipping her hand in again. She drank five handfulls before she could no longer stand the stinging of her palm. She patted her hand clean with the cloak and walked over to the base of a tree, where she sunk down into the snow.

She shivered and watched the sky. Small bands of clouds glided across the heavens momentary covering the pinpoints of stars and a pale ample moon. She blinked in tiredness.

Rose removed her rucksack from her back and tugged out her dampened cloak, she shook it out and placed it under her. She pulled out the egg and cradled it to her chest with one hand and grasped her knife in the other, she used the sack as a makeshift pillow. She lay awake for a long time, listening to the rustling in the chilled night, shifting on the hard ground.

Before sunrise the next morning Rose was so stiff from cold she could hardly move. The day was dim and the dreary overcast had returned. Rose turned over with a groan. She sat up and tried to rub some life back into her arms and legs to no avail.

When she saw the sun at the edge of the forest, she packed her belongings away and walked back to the river where she drank once more, before facing the sheer hill. She had decided somewhere within the night to keep to the riverbank and head to the east, as the stranger, Dunion, had advised. Eager to warm her blood, she began a swift pace along the sloping borders of canal.

She continually had stop to swallow down handfuls of the running water in hopes to trick her belly that it was satisfied, this worked for a short time before her stomach ached worse than before. She also had to break continuously to relieve her bursting bladder.

By midmorning, Rose noted with relief that river's torrent began to weaken and she sat at its edge to rest. She felt weak and lightheaded from her lack of food. Her hands were trembling and stiff with cold. Rose looked at her palms; one concealed by dyed fabric and the other hardened and cracked with blood. She had attempted to rewrap her left hand while she was walking, but she found it to be an unpromising and clumsy act. In the end she chose to hold the bandages in her palm.

Rose removed her cloth rucksack and placed it in her lap. She rested there watching the water swirl away.

_Ailis would be back today_, Rose reflected in ravenous silence, _but what will she find?_ Tornac unaccompanied and unknowing as where Rose had disappeared to, fading footprints in the forest, and then what- a trail that lead them to Dunion's camp or nothing? They would probably search for her for a while, but after a time they would have to halt their search, perhaps afterwards the two of them would turn their shadows her direction and start towards Kausta and later The Varden as intended. That way, at the very least, the green dragon egg would find safety.

Rose sighed and licked her lips.

Overwhelmed by sudden weariness, Rose closed her eyes and drew her knees out from underneath her. Oh, how she wished for a bed swollen with downy and above all a hot meal! Roast beef and fried mushrooms and roots: carrots and beets and anything else she pleased. Her mouth watered. She would have them baked, roasted, poached and sugared. And she would sit on a large couch in a room adorned in cloth of all colors, and there would be a warm fire flicking in a grate, and she eat until her stomach was full and ready to burst. She swallowed, almost smelling the sweet meats and candied fruit.

A screech broke the silence, tearing her away from her fantasy. She jumped up onto her feet and looked around the forest, clutching her bag to her chest. Another shriek filled the air and she startled. She yanked the knife from her belt and turned around, craning her head to the peak of the hill. Instantly, she cursed herself, if there was an enemy she was at a disadvantage. She should have stayed above and trailed down to get water when instead, Rose has found a way to trap herself.

Another screech rang her ears and this time she felt a vibration through her bag. She yelped in alarm and dropped it. The bag wobbled on the ground and Rose kneeled down, opening the flap with the blade of her knife. The bag quivered as soon as she flipped the flap back and Rose jumped back. The bag shuddered and Rose carefully inched toward it and peered inside. The bag trembled again and this time Rose was able to indentify that the wobbling was coming from the egg.

Suddenly the egg groaned and a crack appeared. Rose's eyes widened and she dropped the knife. She grasped ahold of the egg and pressed hands against the surface, in attempt to cease the cracking. Panic rushed through her and she gasped. If she ever made it out this forest and saw Ailis again, Ailis would likely kill Rose for breaking the dragon egg.

The egg wobbled underneath her pressure and another creak appeared. Rose's hands fluttered to cover this one as well. The egg creaked again and Rose moaned hopelessly and pulled her hands out. At the top of the egg where all the creaks met up, the sizable piece wobbled and levitated shaky before it fell back down. Then it rose again and a series of squeaks where heard. Rose knelt in silent horror as a small gleaming head poked out of the hole. The head squawked at her, and then a curiously angled body pulled itself out. Soon the creature was all the way out of the egg. It stayed in place for a moment on top of her bag, before it wobbled and tumbled gracelessly into the snow.

Rose recoiled in alarm.

The creature, the dragon, poked its head out of the snow and wiggled its way upright. It shook itself and began to lick away the oily membrane that sheathed it.

Rose shifted away and the dragon's triangular head snapped around and it looked at her, its barbed tongue flickering out of its mouth. The dragon swished its tail across the snow, scattering it about, and looked around with wide eyes. With a flutter of its wings it leapt onto a fallen, hollowed out log and crawled away to the edge where it craned its head downwards. It peered inside with interest and leapt off the log crawling its way inside.

Rose, who had been watching the dragon in a frozen state, stirred when the dragon disappeared into the riddled log. She crawled over to it and looked inside the opening of the hollow. The dragon turned around and blinked its slanted eye at her. Its cherry-colored eyes gleamed with amusement.

Rose frowned.

"Oh, no you don't," she said reaching her hand in after it. "We're not having that."

Her fingers brushed air and she gazed back into the log.

The dragon, which was just out of her reach, flickered its long thin tongue at her.

Rose huffed at it in annoyance and turned away. "You'll have to come out eventually," she told it. Rose got up and grabbed her knife off of the ground, where she had discarded it earlier. She cursed violently and forcefully threw the knife at a nearby birch. It nicked the hard, papery bark and bounced off, landing into the snow. She swore again and went to retrieve it.

When she turned around she saw that the pesky dragon was peaking its head out of the log and was watching her with a single eye. Rose cursed at it and dove at the log, but it was too late, the dragon snaked its long neck back inside the log. She got up and turned away. Sitting facing the log, she waited for the dragon to show its scaly face.

She hadn't broken the egg as she originally thought and hoped, no, it was worse, the dragon had hatched into the world. It had hatched for her, this she was positive of. Rose grumbled angrily at the log. It had hatched for her like her father's beast of a dragon had hatched for him.

Rose cursed again at the grim choices that lay before her. Perhaps she could stuff it back into the egg and fasten the egg shut, she discarded this thought as soon as it came, the dragon would only find a way out. She could not leave the hatchling to fend for itself and, hopefully, return to Ailis and Tornac with an emptied and shattered egg. Ailis would scold her and proceed to search desperately in the forest for it. She could not undergo killing the thing, which would be worse than leaving it in the wild. Killing it would solve much of her problems, but it would mark her as her Morzan's daughter as well as keeping it would and then she would have to live with the dragon's death on her mind. No, she could not do such a black deed.

Rose gulped.

She liked the last option the least but it was the only one that she could find reasoning. Rose would have to accept the dragon's appearance and continue to try to find her way back to the cabin. She would have to accept her parent's heritage, this was something she did not wish to do, it was the reason why she had absconded from Urû'baen. Rose closed her eyes and rubbed them with her hands. Her luck had run out the moment she left the capital, just as Ailis had said.

Rose stood up and walked to log, she glanced inside, the dragon was tightly coiled with its tail wrapped around its body. Even in its curved state, the dragon was a foot longer then her forearm, it had stocky and compact body and thick legs. Its scales gleamed in the light like crimson embers, the same color as the egg. The dragon flicked its long tail and fanned out its wings as best it could in the tight space. The wings were the color of the finest speckling cherry-wine in Urû'baen. The dragon's triangular head had two white spines prodding out from its cheeks and wide crescent shaped horns. Two diminutive white fangs jutted down from its upper jaw. Though minor the pointed teeth were minor, they shone like daggers and Rose thought them to be very sharp. A procession of small spikes ran down the creature's spine from the base of its head to the very tip of its bulky tail. The spikes were the same color as the fallen snow on the ground.

Rose knelt down and stretched her hand out to the dragon willing it come out. The dragon twisted its head toward her and sniffed her hand, it blinked at her. Tentatively, she stretched her left arm out and touched the dragon's wrinkled snout with the tips of her fingers. A flare of icy energy surged into her hand and raced burned up her arm like flickering flames. She lost her balance and fell to the ground with a piercing cry. A loud ringing filled her ears, and every part of her body scorched with pain. She tried to draw her hand back, but was unable to. Her heart pounded frantically in her chest and she listened motionless to the pounding, waiting for whatever had processed her to release her from its grip.

After what seemed like hours, warmth slowly returned into her limbs and she was able to slowly sit on her knees. Her body tingled and ached, and her lift hand was numb. She blinked and looked back into the log, trying to understand what had occurred.

Inside the dragon was crouching, its tail rapping against the wooden interior. The dragon squealed at her and she felt something brush lightly against her consciousness. The dragon looked up at her and blinked. She blinked back. She felt it again, but this time the feeling was stronger, more solidified. A tendril of thought she identified as interest, but she did not know if it was her own or the dragon's.

Rose knew little about Dragon Riders, but having grown up a castle where one was present, she knew that a dragon and its Rider were bonded. It was a union that enforced them to mend their minds, bonding them for life. She knew that the king could use magic because of him being a Dragon Rider and she wondered if she could as well.

Rose shook the thought away. She did not want this and the moment she found Ailis she would give up the dragon and demand that their bond be revoked. Afterwards she could get on with her life as if the dragon had never hatched.

The dragon stood up on trembling legs and wobbled out the log through the other end. Suspicious, Rose stood up as well and followed it with her eyes. The creature walked around the log toward her attentively. It stood before her, its head craned high in a dignified manner. Rose leaned down and looked it in the eye.

"You're a little menace, you know that?" She asked.

Luckily, the dragon did not answer her back instead it blinked at her and she felt another tendril touch her mind. It was an overpowering, ravenous hunger, which somehow made her own hunger even more evident.

Rose groaned in misery.

"If I had food, do you not think I would be eating it?" She told it, than she smiled and said in jest, "I could eat you."

She laughed grimly and reached for the dragon but it jumped back. It eyed her warily.

"Peace, little nuisance, I shall not dine on you," Rose said suddenly feeling rather foolish for talking to the dragon. Shaking her head, she walked over to her pack and slung it across her back. She then turned back to the dragon, who was idly watching her with bright eyes. She walked pass it and begun down the trail without looking back. The dragon could come with it if it pleased, she had decided, if not, then that was that.

Soon the dragon trailed after her in slow movements. Rose slowed her pace, to match the tiny dragon's. Every few moments she looked down at the creature as it shuffled beside her its wings spread wide for balance. The dragon's wings were several times longer than its body and ribbed with thin white fingers of bone that extended from the wing's front edge, forming a row of widely spaced talons. Rose looked away.

In the distance, she could see small animals scattering about the broad trunks of trees. After a time she saw the little dragon scuttle ahead of her, after a small squirrel and Rose watched as the dragon crouched down, much like a cat would, in the crunching snow. The squirrel ear's wagged and it scurried up the base of the tree. It whirled around at the dragon and chattered before scampering high into the branches. The dragon huffed at the tree, smoke plumed wispily out of its nasals, before scuffling back to her its head held high.

Rose laughed softly and shook her head.

"Nice try, little nuisance," she told it, before walking on.

The dragon helped to keep Rose's mind off of the worst of her hunger. It would dart ahead and jump onto a rock or log, its wings flapping wildly and at times it would squeal at the water. At one point it repeated its attempt at hunting, only this time the dragon caught the small woodland animal and gulped it down whole. Rose scrunched up her face in disgust at the dragon when it returned licking its maw. It looked at her innocently and she scoffed at it.

For some time she and the dragon walked side-by-side along the river banks. The rays of sun, that occasionally escaped the cloud cover, warmed their faces and later their back. Soon their path fell into long winding shadow and Rose's sweat chilled her skin. Now the river was truly begin to weaken until it was but a stuttering icy stream. Their process was reduced to a sluggish stroll and Rose had to stop when she felt too dizzy to continue.

She had just decided that she couldn't take another step when the stream ended completely and the land turned muddy and filled with brown reeds.

* * *

_... in which there is a Thorn in a log._


	11. Side Story 3

___I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.  
A short story- enjoy,_

* * *

_The Thief_

Morzan tucked a warm loft of bread into his dirt stained shirt, thinking that it was probably time he left the market. He sauntered out from the brightly colored building and walked at a good pace down the streets willing himself to blend into the crowd, when an angry cry came from the cloisters behind him. He started, and looked around wildly for means of escape.  
_He a good for nothing thief, he is_, they say.

Turning his head violently, Morzan catches a glimpse of two very large men in a long light blue tunic and shining white chainmail running swiftly towards him. There was no quick way out this market in this swarm of people. He assessed his chances, cursing and decided that he had no other choice then to stand his ground. Things would only be worse if he tried to run now.  
_One of these days he's going to be marked for what he is,_ they say.

When one of the guards reached him, panting hard with exertion and anger, he drew back his hand to cuff Morzan across his head. The boy filched and steeled himself for the blow, but the man stopped with his hand still high in the air and muttered a curse in a low voice.  
_He has devil-eyes,_ they say.

The guard gave Morzan an odious look, and then grabbed him by his earlobe and pulled him through the crowd. Morzan focused on not falling over and losing the loft he stole. He was propelled swiftly through the streets. The crowd of people parted, giving the guard space to walk unchallenged, Morzan caught glimpses of the faces of adults, who looked at him in disapproval.  
_There he goes again,_ they say.

Morzan was marched humiliatingly through the streets until they reached the baker's stall. In an exchange of angry words and a horrible condemn the guard left the boy to the mercy of the baker. The baker barked at him angrily, but Morzan ignored him, the bakerwas only wasting both his and Morzan's time. Morzan tried to offer the bread back but the baker would not have it. Instead he grabbed his hand roughly and shouted at him, but Morzan only blinked the words away.  
_He never listens to the words of warning,_ they say.

Morzan did not know what happened next, it was only a swirl of confusing colors and pain and running. Running as far as his legs could take him. Running until he could run no more, his hand throbbing painfully, until he had to stop. Morzan ducked behind a crate and leaned back into its rough surface. The crate's surface scratched at his hair and neck. Carefully, he looked down at the place where pain in hand was at its worse and gasped in shock.  
_A price must be paid,_ they say.

Morzan cuddled the remainder of his bloodied finger close to his chest. It had begun throb so greatly it made him dizzy. He squeezed it tighter, willing the pain to go away. It didn't.  
_Fingers are required for thievery, without them no further thief shall transpire,_ they say.

His now bloodied stump for a finger marked him for what he was: a scoundrel, a thief. Most people in his town knew this but now they could see it as well. This didn't trouble him, not too much that is. The majority of humans marked him as just that since the moment he was born and because of the evil rumors that surrounded his existence since his mother's passing.  
_He is some evil spirit's offspring,_ they say.

Morzan scowled at a scrawny rat as it scattered by and voyaged into the bustling street. The rodent mindlessly scampered in front of a heavy laden cart and, even though the critter succeeded to avoid both the mule and the first wheel of the cart, Morzan knew it was damned. Morzan watched as the grey rat struggled to scamper away only to be squished by the second thickset wooden wheel. The wheel hit the diminutive, soft body of the rat with a soft _clump_ and the cart rode away without a care. Morzan watched the rat struggle to move away before it went eternally still.  
_His eyes see only wickedness, _they say.

Morzan looked away from the carcass and instead at the people passing in the street. A small group of daughters chattered gleefully pointing at silks and jewels while their mother trailed in front of them with a babe on her hip; an old man with leathered skin roaring about his goods to those who were unlucky enough to pass by him; a dirtied child cried as his caretaker dragged him onwards; a unit of plump guards nattered outside a pitiful excuse of a pub. Morzan turned away from the guards, willing them to not look his way, and joined the crowd in the streets.  
_He will always be on the run from the law,_ they say.

The tip where the cruel shopkeeper chopped off the top half of his finger burned and ached. It was truly beginning to bother him. He clenched it closer to him. Morzan wished he had the funds to see a healer because if the bleeding did not slow soon he would be in heaps of trouble.  
_Difficulties are all that boy ever creates,_ they say.

Morzan walked aimlessly around the small urban until he reached the filthy street where his home stood crookedly, all the while he was careful not to step on any glass or shards with his bare feet. He knew that one misstep could mean a whole new kind of misery and Morzan could not handle any more pain that day.  
_I try to shield my children from his screams at night,_ they say.

Morzan took a deep breath and walked around the house to an open window. He listened but heard nothing, he never heard anything anymore. He quietly crawled through the opening and ducked behind the single chair that sat by the emptied grate. He placed his head in hands and weep tearlessly.  
_I'm sickened because of this misery,_ Morzan thought.

* * *

_A/N: In the darks ages, when a thief was caught a finger would be cut off. I thought this fit for Morzan with him missing the tip of one of fingers. After all he couldn't have had an easy life before he became a Dragon Rider and turned evil, started killing people and everything. I have more ideas for him and his childhood, that I will someday write, maybe._


	12. Side Story 4

_____I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.  
I found another one, I forgot about..._

* * *

_Regal_

"If you're going to cry I don't want to see it," Tornac said to the child trailing after him. The girl sniffled and covered her face into the palms of her hands hiding her tears. He continued down the bending passage for a short time until the girl sniffled once more. He heaved a sigh and came to a halt causing Muirgheal to bump into his legs and looked up rather startled. Tornac turned glancing down at her, her eyes were red and swollen and there was a trail of tears down her flushed cheeks, her bottom lip quivered and she sniffed. "Calm yourself, Muirgheal. I have no patience for this today," he told her after a short moment.

The girl wiped her nose with the long sleeve of her dress and nodded slowly. Tornac grabbed her hand and quickly released it as her palm was slick with tears and phlegm. He groaned inaudibly and pulled out a handkerchief, he then proceeded to clean his hands afterwards he moved on to Muirgheal's palms. Muirgheal protested with a whine, when Tornac went to wipe her face, and struggled to push away his hands before giving up and instead moved her head down and away from him. Tornac seized her chin firmly forcing her look up at him so that he wash away the salty trails. When Tornac was satisfied with her appearance, he pocketed the cloth and grasped her hand once more, despite her squealing objections, before setting a brisk pace.

"It's not fair," the child said shyly, after they round a corner.

Tornac looked down at her. Muirgheal's eyes were wide and she was looking at the ground, clearly distressed.

"Many things in this world are not," he said. "But just so that I understand, what are you referring to?"

Muirgheal sped up her pace, her slippers clapping against the marble flooring, so that she could glance up at his face.

"Lots of things," Muirgheal said. "It's not fair that they were talking bad and _I _was the one who got in trouble but-but they did not."

Tornac sighed and came to a stop once more. He bent down so that he could look Muirgheal in the eye. Muirgheal met his gaze and wiped her nose with her sleeve once again.

"You got into trouble because you assaulted them," he explained.

Muirgheal crushed her lips together in a pout.

"They raised their voices at me, which is just as bad."

Tornac shook his head. "No, Muirgheal, it is not. There is a difference, you need to learn this."

"Why?" She asked pulling her hand away from his. She crossed her arms across her chest in an obstinate manner.

Tornac did not answer until a maiden burdened with linens walked past them, her footsteps echoing loudly.

"If you attack every person you met you will find yourself surrounded only by enemies. You need to think before you act," he said.

Muirgheal frowned in confusion and looked down at the ground. Her feet wiggled from under the skirts of her gown.

"So you're just not saying not to do it because it's improper and unlady-like?" She asked.

"No," he said, "I am not."

"Cordelia would have but that would have no sense because that means that boys could do it all they like," she said, "unless they mean to be lady-like."

Tornac fought back a smile. "Some believe so."

"Then they're silly," Muirgheal said smiling at the ceiling, "so very, very silly."

Tornac chuckled in reply. He took the child's hand and led her down the hallway to her chamber.

Muirgheal had arrived to in Urû'baen with her father, the Rider Morzan, and his dragon well over two years ago. The Rider Morzan was uncouth in his arrival, sputtering and cursing while wrenching both his daughter and her nursemaid off his dragon. The Forsworn ushered them both into Galbatorix's stronghold and into a small drawing room before disappearing to meet with the king. That was the last time Muirgheal saw her father before he was cut down by the former Dragon Rider Brom, before he too was slain.

Before the day Muirgheal had arrived at capital the world had been ignorant of the child's existence but word spend rapidly, chiefly after Morzan passed into the Void. Soon the child required shielding as there were numerous attempts on the child's life, several of these assassins were caught and hung, though many escaped and now roamed the Empire as fugitives. After what was believed to be the tenth, Galbatorix sent for Tornac's ability and Tornac contented to safeguard Muirgheal without complaint. Leaving his sister's family far behind, Tornac arrived at Urû'baen to heed the king's summoning. He has heard little from his sister since.

In the year that he has been charged with the young Muirgheal, he knew her to be a willful and mild child. Much his early time with the child was spent with her scooting around Tornac's form looking to be moderately frightened. After a time she began to trust him with each passing week, nevertheless even now she would remain quiet and stand a span away scrutinizing him warily if she thought him to be cross.

"Someday, Tornac, I'm going to be a queen," she said suddenly, lifting his hand above her head. "Not of the Empire but somewhere else. Somewhere better! And no one will bad talk about people because if they do they will be in trouble."

"Where will this place be?" Tornac asked, joining her game.

The child tipped his hand with her fingers and seemed to think on it. Then she said at last, "Far, far away."

"That is a welcoming place." Tornac looked down at her, smiling humorously.

Muirgheal nodded.

"It is," she said.

"And how shall you get there?"

"I don't know," she said happily, "I think I will have an enchanted pony. She will go fast, faster than the wind!"

Tornac smirked. "No dragons?" He asked jokingly. The child unexpectedly halted and stumbled when Tornac kept walking, as he had not notice her reaction. He looked down at Muirgheal and saw that she had gone rigid and she appeared to be on the verge of tears. He let go of her hand and knelt down in front of her. "Muirgheal?"

She did not look at him, instead she stared unseeingly ahead.

"Muirgheal?" He tried again.

She shook her head and whispered so softly that Tornac had to strain his ears to hear her, "No dragons."

Muirgheal looked at his face with teary eyes.

"No dragons," he agreed, ending their game.


	13. Chapter 9

_I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
__Enjoy,__  
_

* * *

**Of Sweetbriars and Thorns **

At that moment, she looked over the crisp, brown sedges and dried mosses and broken reeds. Rose took a deep breath smelling the strange blend of moldering clay and freshening snow. Jubilant, she looked down at the dragon and said, "We're almost there, little nuisance, just over the ridge and through the forest. After that, I shall feast on bread and berries, and perhaps you can swallow another squirrel, if it fits your fancy."

The dragon looked up at the sound of her voice and flicked its tail across the fine snow. She felt a notion of voracious hunger from the dragon and her stomach complained greedily. Rose cast the dragon a look of dislike; believing that perhaps the dragon was taking some strange pleasure in her discomfort, but another thought from the dragon told her otherwise. The dragon was as hungry as she was, and it did not understand her resentment. Puzzled, Rose frowned, turning away from the dragon and hastened her step, scrutinizing the incline for any signs of her earlier mishap. The dragon tumbled behind her but kept close to her heels.

Rose and the dragon continued until evening when, at last, she saw trodden brushwood lazing flatly against the gradient. The hill was spotted with twisting tanned stones that ascended from the blanketed earth, and tufts of wrinkled lofty grass which heaped deadly against trucks of white-barked trees. She rubbed her wrists and stared at the spiked sweetbriars a small quantity of shredded cloth was collected on the barbed undergrowth.

The delight she acquired from finding her trail was dampened by the realization of how treacherous the terrain she descended from was. It was a rare and lucky chance that Rose had not walked away from the tumble in a worse state than what she had.

Rose took a deep breath and looked about for another way up the hillside. Perhaps, she could lead the dragon back a ways and take their chances on a less dodgy fraction of the precipice. Rose shook her head that would take far too long; they had passed a long mile that was little but an overhang.

In the end the dragon made up Rose's mind for her, it strode over to the hill and began to cautiously scramble its way up. The dragon jumped onto a large rock, at the base of the ridge, and proceeded to climb into the tousled sweetbriars. Rose paused, daunted by the sharp thorns and bristles, and realizing that she had little choice hurried after the dragon.

For some time Rose engaged in combing through the spiked limbs and up the sheer prominence. The thorns prickled at her skin and tore at her trousers and snow slipped under her boots, more than once she slipped and grabbed at the briars or occasional tree to steady herself. Meanwhile, the dragon scampered ahead blithely, evading beneath the worst of the knotted undergrowth without hinder.

When the dragon was at the peak, it crawled onto a stump of a tree and rested there inspecting her struggle, its claret tail to thumping. It watched her for a long moment before it lay down its head and closed its eyes. A short moment later, a puff of dark smoke coiled out of its nostrils.

Not long after the dragon reached the top, the snow under Rose's boots gave way and she slipped down the hill, unthinkingly repeating her actions the day before, she clawed and grabbed at the briars to slow her decent, tearing her hands and arms. Only when a textured bough was within arm's reach was she able to steady herself. She threw herself at the broad branch and clasped both her arms securely around its width. Rose clung there for a moment allowing her breath to slow, when the dragon sent her a tendril of eagerness.

She huffed at the dragon and scurried around the base of the tree, not quite willing to release her grip.

"I pray you can comprehend what I have to say, dragon," Rose told it in exasperation, "if not than I shall say nonetheless; you have four legs whilst I only have two. So, please, almighty lord of the skies, be patient!"

After that the dragon bothered Rose little more, instead it lay on the stump watching her battle the brushwood with keen interest.

When the sun touched the earth and the long shadows lengthened until the woodland was dim and veiled by mist, Rose stopped climbing as she had reached the peak at last. The dragon blinked at her lazily in greeting. Ignoring the dragon, she sighed tiredly and walked over to the stump and sunk down onto the ground leaning heavily against the wood. The dragon stood and stretched, its back arching. It circled the serrated base twice before leaping down into a pile of snow. The dragon fluttered its wings, shaking the snow off its wings and then crawled to her footpath. It turned and squeaked at her sending her wary thought of impatience. Rose wiped her bloodied hands on the snow, leaving behind long red smears. She looked up at dragon when it squeaked at her once more and she unhurriedly stood up.

Reaching the dragon, she placed the tips of her finger on its head marveling at the smoothness of its scales. When a light tingling ran up her arm Rose abruptly turned away breaking their contact and started down the trail.

Numbly, she walked down the path, wishing that there was more light to see by, with the dragon just ahead her. They were both stumbling over loose stones and roots hidden by both night and snow. Rose did not know how long they walked, only that the dragon took a slight lead and that it never strayed from the footpath.

Since discovering her earlier trail and the lightened joy it gave her, Rose felt her mood toward the dragon slightly shift and she began to pass time by conveying various tales of her past and legends she heard as a child. It was a demanding task as the dragon would offend interrupt her in own primal way to press for details, like how silk felt or the taste of candied chestnuts. There were many things Rose could not find the words to describe and so she resorted to their mind-touch to express the feelings, tastes and smells. Sometimes she felt that the dragon was amused at her attempts but it remained interested all the same.

At last she could take it no more and she called for a rest. Rose dropped heavily onto the ground where she stood and tucked her knees under her chin. The dragon did not protest and it too lowered itself onto the snow. It no longer whisked its tail or fluttered its wings about playfully, no, the dragon was far too tired to exert its energy in this way.

Rose sat, stared unseeingly ahead for a long moment and when she decided that perhaps it was time to continue she heard a clatter in the distance and felt something warm brush against her leg. Shocked she looked down at the dragon and saw that the dragon was standing rigidly looking ahead, it was producing a strange gurgling sound. Rose hushed it and crawled off the path and into the brushwood behind a tree, the dragon grudgingly following after her.

It seemed a long time before Rose saw the figure that the soft padding of footsteps belonged to. The figure steadily worked its way up the broken path toward them, a lit lantern swinging low to the ground.

Bending down Rose placed her hands on the bare earth, cringing as her cuts stung from the pressure, on either side of the dragon so that she was hovering over it. With determination, she sent the dragon a message to stay in place, it took her a long moment to come across the correct sensation to do so, and even long for her to convince herself that the dragon understood her. Rose untied the knife from the cloth belt at her waist with one hand and she stood almost embracing the tree, watching the figure closely.

As it drew closer, she thought that it wasn't a man after all but most certainly a woman. Her first thought was that the figure was Ailis, they were of the same height and stature, but Rose was not going to take any further risks, not with a newly hatched dragon about. The closer the figure got the more certain Rose was that she was pursuing Rose's footprints. The figure slipped and Rose heard her curse under her breath, then she stood straight and hoisted the lantern above her head. Rose was at last saw her face. It was Ailis. Rose tiredly warned the dragon to remain behind the tree once more and then she staggered out from behind the tree and onto the path.

Ailis' head snapped up in her direction and her hand went to the hilt of her shortsword. She stepped forward and the muffled glow from the lantern reached Rose's face, blinding her. Rose shadowed her eyes with her hand and squinted in Ailis' direction.

She heard Ailis gasp audibility and sprint toward her, dropping her lantern into the snow but Ailis did not seem to notice. Without warning Ailis threw her arms around Rose embracing her passionately so that the breath was driven out of her, after a short moment Ailis kissed the top of her head. Rose remained still, puzzled over Ailis' passion, and then she hesitantly returned her embrace, wrapping her arms around Ailis' back fingering the loose strands of hair that fell from the woman's chignon. After a lengthy time, Ailis stood back and held her at arm's length. She looked over Rose struggling for words.

"I don't know whether I ought to strangle you or not!" Ailis growled at last.

Rose swallowed her throat scratchy and dry.

"Not, I think," she said.

"You do think, then?" Ailis demanded heatedly, "I thought that, perhaps, you lost your ability to do so."

Rose glared at Ailis, her ill mood, from earlier that day, returning. "I'm truly sorry-"

"Apologizing does not change what has transpired," Ailis retorted in a low voice.

"Neither does reprimanding me as if I were some child!" Rose said, her tone matching Ailis'.

Ailis started to say more but she stopped and looked away toward the cloud streaked sky, she took in a deep breath calming herself and looked back at Rose studying her. Ailis smiled tenderly though her eyes still flashed with anger and then calmly said, "You look as if you've been dragged through a mountain of briars."

"I feel as if I have," Rose said, still irritated with Ailis.

"At the very least, we shall have plenty brushwood to last the night," she said quietly, eying Rose's snarled hair.

Rose inwardly groaned. She had thought little of the sad state her hair was certain to be in and the thought of Ailis having pick out and untangle the briars and barbs within, was tormenting. Rose shuddered; knowing sleep would remain far from her this night.

Ailis released Rose from her grip and picked up the lantern she had dropped before. Turning back to Rose, she raised an eyebrow and asked, "Are you coming or do you wish to remain?"

"I shall come," Rose said diffidently, she felt out to the dragon and found that it still remained beneath the tree, "but I must tell you of something beforehand."

Ailis turned her head to the side and shifted. "Then tell," she said.

Rose bit her lip, straining to find words to explain what had transpired, and slung the rucksack off of her. She unfastened the rope hatch and looked down at the bag. Simply handing the sack to Ailis, she said, "I found the lost dragon egg."

Ailis looked at her in shock, her eyes shadowed brutishly in the flickering glow of the lantern. Wordlessly she took the bag from Rose and peered inside. Ailis quickly dug through the bag and her look of mere shock turned into disbelief and then uncertainty. Silently, she pulled out a large fragment of the dragon egg and turned it over, examining it from all sides in the light. Ailis glanced up at Rose and back to the egg fragment where a large crack splintered down in the middle intermitting light from the lamp. Dropping the fragment back into the bag, she grabbed Rose's unwrapped hand and turned it over in the light. She hissed out a breathy curse.

Rose watched Ailis' reaction mutely chewing on the inside of her cheek.

"What happened?" Ailis asked.

"Which are you referring to, the egg or my hand?"

Ailis looked up at her met her eyes urgently, "Both."

Rose yawned and pulled her hand away from Ailis, rubbing her eyes.

"The egg hatched, Ailis," she said with another yawn. "Can we talk about this elsewhere?"

"Yes," Ailis said after studying her for a moment as if seeing her for the first time, "yes, of course."

Rose nodded tiredly and called the dragon through her mind. The dragon answered back after a short pause, and Rose's stomach rumbled in response. Once she assured the dragon that there would, in fact, be food soon the dragon clawed out from the underbrush and it tottered to her eying Ailis warily.

Ailis watched the dragon mutely, her face blank and expressionless except for her eyes which were wide in either bewilderment or anger or perhaps both, Rose did not know. When the dragon came to a halt in front of Rose, Ailis walked forward and stooped down in front of it so that they were level and to Rose's shock she addressed the dragon.

"Well met, little one," she said, a hint of irony in her voice. Ailis then stood up and looked Rose in the eye. "I suppose, you have not fed him, have you?"

Rose looked at her in exasperation. "I have no food to feed it!"

Ailis lips twitched and she pulled a shoulder bag in front of her, swinging Rose's rucksack over her shoulder, and she prodded through it. Silently she handed Rose a cloth bag filled with berries and she looked down at the dragon. "I apologize, little dragon, but I carry no meat," she told it.

The dragon blinked and swished its tail in response.

They then started down the trail, the dragon swaying next to Rose.

"Where's Tornac?" Rose asked, between mouthfuls of the waxy sweet berries.

Ailis looked at her out of the corner of her eyes. "He stayed behind for fear that you may, perchance, find your way back there on your own. In which case, he did not wish for you to arrive at a vacant hovel. He's in quite a dire state."

Rose looked away into the silhouetted forest. "It was not my intention," she said softly.

"Was there an intention at all?"

Rose swallowed in reply.

Ailis exhaled noisily through her nose and said nothing more.

Ailis pushed the pace as they walked in suborn silence, wrapped in their own thoughts.

The next few hours passed in a blur of tiredness. Rose was too weary to notice much of anything in the night only that it was a dark and punishingly cold night and she would be quite glad to sit beside a fire soon enough. Her feet and back ached her but the rest of her body was numb. The dragon was beginning to lag behind and more than once they had to slow their pace to allow it to keep pace with time, its head dripping close to the ground and its tail dragging limply behind it.

"You'll become ill if you keep consuming those berries," Ailis said. Rose started, not recognizing that she was still swallowing the berries and handed the almost empty bag to Ailis.

At last they reached the edge of the woodland.

Walking slowly and tiredly they stepped through the snow into the darkened cabin and padded softly to the dimly lit grate. Ailis extinguished her lantern and set it on the earthen flooring next to her bags while Rose walked to the fire and added tinder so that they could warm their chilled bones. The dragon curled up beside her, its tail to its nose, and swiftly fell asleep when she sat down, its hunger forgotten.

"Do we wake him?" Rose whispered in the silence, looking at Tornac who was sleeping quietly close to the door.

Ailis shook her head and sat close to Rose. She said, "He will awaken soon enough."

Rose nodded and blinked tiredly.

Rose watched as Ailis walked over to the heap of bags and picked one up swinging it over her shoulder. Ailis then proceeded to walk past Rose to place to a pot filled with readily water which she set over the fire. Sitting down she turned and faced Rose.

"Let me see your hands," Ailis said.

Wordlessly, Rose set her left hand in Ailis' and waited. Instead of bandaging her hands as Rose thought she would, Ailis merely frowned and held her hand in both of her own. She searched her wounds on both her hands, as those were Rose's worse injuries and called for instant attention, with expert, gentle fingers and Rose struggled not to flinch.

"You are not going to bandage them?" Rose asked after a moment.

"There's no use," said Ailis, "I'm afraid that if I did so they would not heal overly well."

Puzzled, Rose frowned but said nothing more. When Ailis was inspecting Rose's hands, she pressed her hands hard over Rose's palms. She took a deep breath and then spoke in a soft voice, "Waise heill!"

Rose gasped as the felt the skin tickling as it mend back together renewing itself and the dulling pain vanished completely. She pulled her hands backing looking over them entranced, they appeared as if the thorns from the sweetbriars never scored them, save for diffused distorted oval blotch which shone a faint silver in her firelight, on her left palm. Rose stared at the deformity intently wondering absently of its origin before she looked up at Ailis with both concern and distrust. "That was magic," Rose said.

Ailis' lips twitched and she said, "It was."

"You have not told me you wielded magic."

The sleeping dragon beside Rose stirred puffing out smoke.

"With good reason," said Ailis, releasing her hands. Rose flinched away from Ailis' touch as she raised herself onto her knees to look over the shallow wound on her forehead. "Do not mistrust me because I have withheld information about myself from you, Rose," Ailis said seeing Rose's reaction. Then Ailis rubbed the wound with a sweet-smelling balm from a tiny jar she drew from her pack. She turned then to the boiling water and made a strong tea. Ailis poured the scorching water into two mugs and handed one to Rose, which she set down on the ground next to her.

"Are your abilities the reason why you were sent to Urû'baen to retrieve the dragon eggs?" Rose asked after a long silence.

"That was part of the reason," Ailis said pulling out a wide-toothed comb from her bag.

Rose yawned feeling thoroughly exhausted, however desperate to stay in the waking world, she asked, "And the other part?"

Ailis stood behind Rose, combing patiently through her hair. "I was rather adamant about the endeavor," she said guardedly, "and I was one of the few who knew about its existence."

Rose yawned, despite her tiredness she could not fall asleep. The sharp tugging of the comb kept her on the verge of wakefulness, and after a time she took to the tea. The herbal tea was both sweet and bitter, and it warmed her down to her toes, some of the chill left her bones. For a long moment she sat contently while Ailis tackled her hair with a comb, the slumbering dragon on one side her and an increasing pile of sweetbriars and thorns on the other.

* * *

_A/N: Real quick; The Varden wound not have sent someone who did not have a least a small fighting chance in the capital to save the dragon eggs, and the elves would probably have enough problem sending a human to begin with, so, yes, Ailis would need to have the renowned, and slightly over used, ability. Plus if she didn't I wouldn't be able to fit her into this story.  
__Also, the first thing that popped in my head to have Rose say when I was writing this part: …_ _Dropping the fragment back into the bag, she grabbed Rose's unwrapped hand and turned it over in the light. She hissed out a breathy curse.__  
__"What happened?" She asked.__  
__"Which are you referring to, the egg or my hand?"__  
__Ailis looked up at her met her eyes urgently, "Both."__  
__"I decided to swing from vine to vine like Tarzan, only I didn't quite succeed and I feel into the briars below. As for the egg, well, I was hungry so I made an omelet."…_


	14. Chapter 10

_I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
As always enjoy and, please, tell me what you think._

* * *

**A New Direction**

It was late afternoon the following day when Rose awoke. She was so warm and comfortable that at first she didn't want to open her eyes. She stretched luxuriously under her blanket, her hand brushing something warm and scaly. Running her fingers curiously over the harden silk-like surface, she remembered where she was and the events that had occurred and sat up, tousled and still half-asleep, rubbing her eyes. The late sunlight shifted through the open doorway, touching objects around the room with a still, golden light, and she could hear the swallow breathing of the dragon behind her and crackling of the fire behind it.

"Good afternoon," said Tornac. "I trust you slept well?"

Rose jumped and turned around. Tornac was sitting on the bare earthen floor, his legs stretched out before him, a big, leather-bound book open on his lap. He closed it carefully and placed it on the ground next to him. He was pale and the scar on his face stood out as it always did when he was anxious.

"I…" Rose faltered, taking a deep breath. "I did, thank you."

Tornac studied Rose in silence. Suddenly feeling very much like a small child, Rose turned her eyes away.

"What happened?" Tornac asked at last.

"I chased after a wisp," she said. "It led me deep into the forest and disappeared."

Tornac's eyes turned black in anger. "And then?"

"I fell down a hill into a marsh and a stranger came by and offered help." Rose rubbed her hands. "I had injured myself when I fell so I went with him."

There was a short, ominous silence where the only thing that was heard was the dragon chewing lazily on a strip of pink meat, its tail rapping contentedly against the ground and the crackling laugh of the fire.

When Tornac did speak, it was in the hard, even voice that he signaled total fury. "Do you mean to tell me that, after years of avoiding even the smallest advances of amity even from those dearest to you, you suddenly decide on a whim, with no warning at all, to not only hunt a fairylight in middle of the night but seek comfort from a stranger? I thought you had learned something over the past years."

"It was foolish, I know-"

"Foolish? That's the least of it. Perilous, reckless, stupid. By the gods, Muirgheal, I'd expect such a thing from a child, but you at least ought to know better than anyone else the perils of a stranger."

Rose stood up, nearly toppling over the dragon, stung by Tornac's anger.

"If I am not a child, then why do you insist on calling me one?" Tornac leaned back onto a small heap of bags behind him but did not answer. Rose took a deep ragged breath. "I'm sorry, Tornac" she said bitterly, "I truly am."

When Tornac said nothing Rose walked over to the iron pot that they used for stew and boiling water. She crouched down and peered inside, granules of dried meat and barley floated on the surface of the thin grain-colored stew. Sighing with discontent, she poured herself a bowl and hungrily drank from it. The soup was mild and the meat stringy but Rose scarcely tasted it as she drank hurriedly, eager to fill her grumbling belly. When the wooden bowl was emptied, she poured herself another and sat back on her heels enjoying the taste and warmth.

Setting the bowl on the earthen flooring, Rose stood and stretched. She turned around and saw that Tornac's anger was subsiding, and that the dragon had now finished its meal and was licking its claws joyously, is pink tongue flicking in and out of its maw.

"I forgive you," Tornac said at last. "Just. But please do not repeat these actions and if you do, at least warn me. I also decided to set aside my lesser judgments until Ailis returns and your tales are told in full. All the same, Rose, you know as well as I that that was a reckless act and we cannot afford such recklessness if we are to survive this."

Rose did not need to be told what 'this' was, she knew it referred both their lives and their flight and now the dragon.

"I promise," Rose said, then added as an afterthought, "Where is Ailis?"

"She is setting out snares, since your dragon appears to be depleting us of our supply of meat. Be warned! She has taken your welfare to somewhat to heart, and she is rather cross at the moment."

"I know. She liberated some of her anger upon my head last night." She shuddered at the thought.

"She spoke little of that this morning when I awoke. Seems to me, that you took more than a simple tumble down a hill," said Tornac. He gave her a sudden, brilliant smile. "Serves you right, I say."

Rose grumbled in response and picked her way over to her bags. Pulling out a spare set of clothing and her waterskin, she requested that Tornac leave so she may bathe and dress in private. When Tornac stepped outside, she peeled off her torn clothes, washed herself all over minding her cuts and sores, and changed into the clean clothes from in her pack. She did not know what to do with the soiled clothing and so she dropped them onto the rucksack.

As she was pulling on her boots, she noticed that the dragon was watching her intently, it ruby eyes luminous in the firelight. She stood up and approached it apprehensively, its eyes never strayed from her movements. Leaning down she met its gaze and the dragon blinked and her and thumped its tail loudly against the earth.

"What am I going to do with you, little menace?" she asked it.

The dragon cocked its head to the side and sent her a reflection of their endless walking the day before through their strange mind-touch.

Rose shook her head. "No," she said, "no more of that, I think."

Closing its eyes in response, the dragon rested its head between its paws and puffed out curls of smoke. Rose observed the dragon until it began to produce a vibrating noise, between a hum and a purr, and she stood straight. Walking over to her saddlebags, she pulled out her sword from the top of the small pile and belted it then walked over to the door.

A bitter wind pinched cruelly at her exposed skin, instantly leaving her numb, the moment when she opened the door. Closing the planked wooden door behind her, she blinked and squinted her eyes narrowly at the blinding snow-coated plains.

Ailis and Tornac stood near the barn deep in conversation, neither of them looked up as Rose made her approach.

"-tried every method I could think of, and yet, I could not contact him," Rose heard Ailis say sharply. Rose saw Tornac look over in her direction and Ailis followed his gaze, and the woman hurriedly said, "I tried to scry him."

"Who could you not contact? Someone within The Varden?" asked Rose when she reached them. She felt the dragon's consciousness in her mind as it stirred in response to her agitation and interest and she pushed it away, shutting her mind off to the creature.

Ailis frowned at Rose and shook her head. "No," she said distractedly, "a friend of mine."

"Did you find anything by doing so?" Tornac asked quietly.

Ailis met his eyes. "Less than I desired."

"I see. Well, let us not stand here like mislaid sheep. We ought to get indoors, there is a chill in this air that I like not," said Tornac puckering his brow. He stepped over and clasped Rose's shoulder and began to usher her around the drifts of shining snow and towards the cabin, Ailis following not far behind. "Don't you concern yourself with Ailis' troubles and secrets," he whispered quietly to Rose, "she has quite a percentage on her mind at this moment and a remarkable little of it she wishes to burden you with."

"Why should I fret, if does not affect me?" she whispered back.

Tornac sighed breathily. "I'm telling this because of our long friendship, more than several of her contemplations involve you," he paused and looked behind him. "However, it is nothing she shall not reveal in due time. It would be unwise ask, ease she may never say," he advised and leaned away.

Looking behind her shoulder at Ailis' glum figure, Rose frowned and bit the inside her cheek. Shaking her head, she looked away and hurried ahead into the hut, she had had enough of nature as of late and dearly yearned only for lodging.

When inside the structure, the travelers encircled the flickering grate and sat in silence for a short moment. Only when the dragon stood and lousily scuttled its way to Rose did Ailis speak.

"What do you make of him?" She asked studying the dragon with a look of great concern.

Rose looked at her, momentarily puzzled. "What do I think of the dragon?" Rose relayed to insure she understood Ailis' question, Ailis nodded. Rose thought about for a moment, and though she was still maddened by the mere idea of the creature, she looked at Tornac out the corner of her eyes and muttered, "I'm not certain. I haven't quite had the opportunity to comprehend what has, is, occurring."

Ailis frown deepened and with a deep sigh she placed her hands in her hands. "What do you wish to take place?" she muffled.

Rose frowned, unsure where Ailis was going with this conversation. "Only for it to crawl back into its egg and remain there," Rose said in truth.

Ailis snorted a laugh. She looked up and smiled wobbly at Rose, then she turned towards the fire and stretched out her bare hands, the flickering glow from the flame gleamed off of the teeming crisscross scars that scored her hands. Rose watched as Ailis rubbed her hands together and leaned closer to the fire, a piece of rich brown hair tumbled into her face and she wiped it away, tucking it behind her ear. She sighed and leaned away whispering softly, but whatever she had said was lost to the dragon loudly thumping its tail.

Rose looked over at Tornac, who remained silent throughout the exchange and met his gaze, he shook his head and continued to poke at the fire with a stick. "I believe now would be a suitable time for you to tell us of your exploration, yes, Rose?" he said as the golden cinders raced into the air.

Looking at the flames, Rose slowly began to tell them of what had occurred, she was only interrupted once by Ailis who requested to know what had awoken her to begin with. After she told them of the necklace, feeling rather imprudent all the while, Ailis leaned forward and listened with zealous, her hands folded tightly in her lap. When Rose finished her account, she fell silent, not meeting their eyes. Tornac leaned back on his hands absently studying the ceiling and sighed halfheartedly, while, Ailis remanded unemotional, her face masklike. Finally, Ailis nodded and stood up, beckoning Rose forth.

"We're going for a walk," Ailis announced.

Tornac nodded in her direction, and threw another branch in the fire and poked it, so a trail of sparks flew up into the chute.

Frowning Rose stood up and draped herself in the mud-spattered cloak she had worn the previous day, before following Ailis into the daylight, the dragon watching her movements with its eyes, before it too stood and followed.

Ailis silently led Rose outside and into the forest down a broken path. A coolness fell over them; the sunlight fell in dapples and Rose saw squirrels vanishing up the trunks of tree as they passed, and a rabbit propped in a small glade, its white tail bobbing into the trees as they drew closer. Beside her the dragon sauntered, conveying to her its displeasure at their return to the woodlands, Rose irritably sent it her own abhorrence for the towering trees and the brumbles that grew below their high crowns, and the dragon bothered her no more.

They walked in silence for a long moment, as they had the night before, and soon Rose began to feel as if she had never left the sheltering of the trees and that her afternoon in the cabin was little but a distant dream.

Finally, Ailis came to a halt and turned around to Rose. They were at the edge of a dell still underneath the limbs of bare trees, the glade circled before them in a tedious mounding of shining snow.

"There is much you need to know and much I cannot teach you," Ailis said. "I had hopes that you would never require such knowledge but, alas, it seems that Fate plays cruel tricks indeed."

"What are you talking about, Ailis?" Rose crossed her arms and rubbed the wooly fabric that swathed them.

Ailis smiled but it was more like a wince. "I had all intentions of teaching you much when we got to The Varden, I had hoped I could delay passing on such until then, but your dragon has forced my hand." She held up her hand so to stop Rose' next remark and she said sharply, "Ask me no more, I have no humor at the present to answer."

Rose scowled, soured by Ailis' tone and riddles, at the trees in the distance. _How many lifetimes these trees must have witnessed_, Rose thought, _how many sorrows and furies and pleadings have been heard?_

When she looked back at Ailis, the woman summoned her forth and kneeled down in the snow by a wide trunked tree, and swept the powdery substance away from the roots, revealing a simple roped snare. Ailis then proceeded to describe how it worked and had Rose both take the trap down and set it back up. Afterwards Ailis showed Rose the numerous tracks on the ground and instructed her on how to track the animals and judge where they might be nesting, during this time neither of them paid any mind to the dragon, which was at a time near their heels, and so they did not notice with it traveled far from them and deep into the forest.

Rose was the first to notice the dragon's absence, quickly sending out her mind to it but the dragon was too far and she felt nothing. Panicked Rose told Ailis and the two of them wandered the woodlands until they happened across the dragon clawing mercilessly into a burrow near a fallen tree. Rose called the dragon and it straightened and looked at her, it turned back to the hole and growled maliciously before it blew smoke and trotted toward them.

Ailis laughed silently beside Rose, shaking her head. "That was not an occurrence I ever believed I would witness."

Rose shivered, looking down at the dragon. Suddenly, she thought of the chilled air and wondered whether or not the creature was cold or how it could stand the blistering wind, she shook her head to clear the thought away. "Night is beginning to fall," Rose observed.

"It is," said Ailis, "and a hot meal is summoning us back."

While they walked there was little pleasantries as Ailis focus solely on her teachings, one time Ailis pointed out a dried grass with feather-like tresses at the tops, which she pulled out of the ground and shook out the dirt out the roots, she explained how the roots could be peeled off and cooked before eaten. The rest of the walk was spent by Ailis checking a number of traps, one of the snares was cut and frayed at the ends, and walking up to different trees and showing Rose how to peel the bark with a knife and the flesh that could be eaten inside, she also explained how to make a sweet tea from the twigs of a birch tree.

It was only three hours before dusk when they returned to the cabin. Chilled and still tired from her voyage in the forest from the days before, Rose quickly opened creaking door and stepped inside the warmed shelter. Shivering, Rose rushed across the flooring and curled in on herself by the balmy fire, next to Tornac who had taken to his large book once more.

"Did you enjoy your walk?" Tornac looked up and smiled tightly at them in greeting. "Am I right to assume that it was less eventful then the previous taken."

Rose frowned and looked down at the dragon as it curled close to her. She pushed it away with her foot, wishing that the creature would find something else to lie close to.

"I would hope so," Ailis said getting food out a pack.

Wordlessly, Tornac leaned forward and began pour the stew into bowls with a wooden ladle. Realizing how hungry she was Rose eagerly reached out for the bowl Tornac handed her.

"We haven't lost all courtesies, at least not yet, I hope," said Ailis, sitting down on the other side of the watchful dragon. "You must wash first."

Smiling teasingly, Tornac sat back with his own bowl in his hands and drank from it causing Ails to laugh lightly as she handed out rolls of hardened bread- none of them troubled theirselves with washing their hands.

They munched in silence for a time and the dragon began to thump its tail softly against the ground. When the bowls were drained the dragon again sent Rose a tendril of thought, it was desired food as well. When Rose relayed this to Ailis and Tornac, Ailis simply rolled her eyes in exasperation. "I'll not doubt that he will ever stop eating," Ailis said. "If he's hungry you ought to skin that rabbit." Rose glared at her in annoyance. "He's your dragon, Rose, for the time that he's a hatchling, and at moments after he grows, he's going to rely on you for many things."

"It's not my dragon," Rose growled.

"Oh, so he hatched for someone else and you just happened to be the only soul around in that moment? No, Rose, he hatched for you and now you are his Rider whether you wish it or not."

Scowling Rose stood up turning toward the resting dragon. It snaked its head up and blinked at her. "There's a way to revoke the bond, is there not?"

"Only through black magic," said Ailis after a short pause.

Tornac huffed at them. "Rose," he began in a warning tone.

Turning away from them, Rose walked to the limp rabbit picking it up by its hind leg with distaste, she stepped to the doorway. "Don't worry, Tornac, I want little to do with magic," she said and walked into the freezing air.

When she went back inside, she noted that the dragon was waiting for her close to the door, she bent down and lay the meat strips in front of it. Watching the dragon sniff the stripes and then proceed to guzzle them up, Rose sighed, there wasn't much she could do about the creature at the moment.

While she was cutting the pinkened meat, Rose thought over the predicament that was the dragon and how she should proceed. The only action she could take, as she had concluded the day before, was for the time being to accept the dragon's presence. It seemed to her that she had little other choice and that perhaps Fate was a cruel jokester, allowing her escape Galbatorix's preparation to transform her into the Black Hand, as her mother had been, and then tossing at her a dragon and thus making her a Rider, as her father once was.

She stood up and resignedly walked over to Ailis and Tornac, when she sat down she ignored their conversation despite their efforts to include her. Only with the sun had set on the horizon, did Rose turn away from the fire and look at her company. Ailis and Tornac were talking quietly and, she saw in the corner of her eye that, the dragon lay close to her saddlebags studying her closely. It met her gaze and sent her tendril of thought and Rose responded in kind. After a moment the dragon stood and hesitantly toddled over to her. Stopping a foot away, it stood stiffly and Rose held her hand out toward it and watched as the dragon's eyes went wide as it scrambled to her side. Rose unemotionally turned to Tornac and Ailis, scratching the dragon lightly under its scaly chin.

After a moment she was able to conclude that they were deciding on how they travel through The Spine, whether it be wild or road and perhaps they should they wander to Kausta, as planned, or stop shortly in Teirm to send word south to the Varden. It was a long, dreary exchange as they were thinking through all the advantages and possible difficulties that may occur. When Rose joined in on the dispute both of them started as she had cared little before that moment but listened to her option. Hours later they agreed to head to Teirm through the wildlands of The Spine, but first they would seek a town or village and obtain a healthier set of provisions. After restocking the fire, the travelers crawled underneath their blankets and swiftly fell asleep as they would arise early the next day.


	15. Chapter 11

_I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
I decided to update with this chapter before I changed my mind.  
Enjoy,_

* * *

**Voyage**

The next days passed by in a blur of mind-numbing tiredness. Whereas before they had been traveling solely by horseback, moving avidly and swiftly, now they frequently journeyed on foot beside their steeds, their boots crushing on the layers of snow. They began well before light and stopped after dark, keeping up a punishing pace all the while.

The clear weather had gone way, and now they traveled through a miserable blend of snow and icy rain. It agitated them, placing them in foul tempers and it was not long before many unpleasant words were exchanged, the weather also made them all the more determined to find either town or shelter.

Ailis guided them westward by the sun and stars, and on clear nights they watched the moon growing thinner until it was waned to a nail paring and disappeared, and then witnessed its gradual return. The land itself prohibited swift movement; the ground was uneven and strewn with small rocks and treacherous holes, hidden underneath a thick blanketing of snow, that threatened to twist or even break the horses legs if they were careless, because of this they could travel at most three leagues in a day and it was more than thirty leagues before they sighted the rising peaks of The Spine in the distance. As they neared its shadowing peaks the level plains were soon exchanged with rolling foothills. Rose, elated at seeing the change at first, found the foothills hard going; dreary, empty and dispiriting. Before the last of the light left the sky Ailis would ride ahead of them to check for any signs of road or life and every time she would return grim faced with heavy disappointment, and together they would quickly set up a makeshift camp in the frequent small dips or hallows that were untouched by the worst of winter's tempest. Far too wary for much else, the travelers would eat an insipid meal of berries and the last of their hardened rolls of staled bread, and afterwards Tornac would force both Rose and himself into action and tutor her in swordcraft, pushing her far past her limits, only then the three of them would gather theirselves under the meek sheltering of their blankets.

During the fruitless marching, the dragon matured drastically, and soon it was safe from most dangers, doubling its size in the first week and when it was a fortnight old it was the size of a small horse, its shrill squawking deepened into a deep bass grumble. Repeatedly throughout the day the dragon would take off, away from the group, to hunt but always kept within mental contact of Rose. Their mind-touch expanded as quickly as the dragon grew, so that they could communicate anywhere within the distance of three leagues.

Finding that the dragon, which seemed wholly unaltered by the freezing conditions, to be the only single affable company she had during these lengthy days, Rose turned towards its steady composure. Even with her continuous contact and the swift growing relationship with the dragon and the contentment she felt in its presence, she would more offend than not stubbornly rebuff the dragon's attempts at furthering their contact past their mute discussions directed purely through images and emotions.

"Don't be so severe with him," Ailis told her one morning when she hastily strode away from the clingy dragon.

Rose frowned quizzically. "It's a male?"

Ailis sighed and rubbed her face with her bare hands in exasperation. "Yes, Rose, do you have ears of cloth?"

Rose felt a new kind of fear stirring within her, a fear of the intimacy she was forming with the dragon, knowing its gender only worsened her uncertainties and prickled at her anger. She leapt onto the saddled back of Eowyn, and looked into the countryside with resigned fury.

That day they cheerlessly rode, as the snow was low to the ground and permitted them to do so, in silence with the sun rising high above them before disappearing behind the rocky crags of the mountains, at times the dragon glided dejectedly above or stumbled loudly behind the steeds, tentatively commuting without words to Rose.

As Ailis took her twilight exploration for the road that night, Rose and Tornac huddled under an inadequate shelter of a small fir, with the dragon close by, sitting on his haunches his clawed hands resting on the ground in front of him. Tornac had, to cap the misery of their flight completely, developed a heavy cold with a lurid cough, and when Tornac began to shudder intensely, Rose unwrapped herself and draped her blanket over his frame. Then wandered around the evergreen picking off their green gristly needles for a luscious tea and when she had, what she thought to be, enough she set them on the top of her saddlebags. Ambling tiredly around the tree Rose collected enough tinder for a small fire, the dragon trailing her with its bright eyes.

"Where is the tinderbox kept?" asked Rose as she positioned the kindling the same way she had seen Tornac and Ailis do.

Tornac coughed. "It is broken," he said breathily.

"I know but that's where the stones are kept, correct?"

Nodding, Tornac slowly leaned over and prodded through his bags before pulling out a steel cylinder with a damaged rusty chain that linked through its center, fastened to the fetter was a long horizontal ovoid ring. He handed the tinderbox to Rose and leaned back against the base of the tree, watching her with heavy eyes.

Rose turned the object over and peered inside where a corner of soiled fabric poked out of the center, pinching the silky fabric she struggled with it until the scrap of cloth was out of the tinderbox and was resting on her palm. Placing the metal tinderbox onto the ground, Rose bent down resting on her knees and unwrapped the fire starting stones, a chipped white and gray banded disk of agate and tarnished dark yellow cluster of marcasite lay between the folds of beaded cloth. She dropped the strip of fabric on top of the tinderbox and looked at the tinder uncertainly.

"Strike down," advised Tornac between coughs.

Nodding in understanding, Rose held the stones between her fingers and struck them together, jumping back onto the balls of her feet as they collided together with a deafening clap. Calming herself, Rose struck again and again watching transfixed as ember sparks dashed off the surface of the rocks, and so she did not notice when the tinder caught. The dragon mind-touched her with a image of the smoldering tinder and the small trails of silvery smoke that climbed into the evening sky, and she started slightly before dropping the stones into the snow and leaning forward to blow gently between the stocks of timber. When a small golden flame wavered dually Tornac leaned forward in front of Rose and placed a hand full of dried grass into the leaning tinder then he leaned back he pulling Rose back with him. The flames quickly ate up the brown tuft stuttering out portions of sparks, crackling gleefully.

Rose smiled, pleased with her feat, and admired the flickering flames for a long moment before she stood and rummaged through a bulky saddlebag in hunt of the cookware. Pulling out the coarse iron pot and ladle, she walked a short distance to a patch of pure snow and scooped a small pile into the pot and walked back. Rose placed the pot close to the fire and sat between Tornac, who was leaning heavily against the fir tree with his eyes close, and the dragon. They rested in silence for a time. Then Tornac stirred and leaned forward coughing violently, Rose looked over to him with concern.

"We're lost," said Tornac when the coughing subsided.

Rose started. "Pardon?"

"We are lost," he cleared his throat. "Ailis will never admit it, but we're lost."

"I'm in the understanding that we are being directed by the heavens," said Rose with a frown, thinking that perhaps a fever was affecting Tornac once again.

"We are, not so much before and so now we are lost."

Tornac shut his eyes. A long silence fell between them, and Rose mixed the melting snow, dully clanking the ladle against the pot's rimming, when the snow had melted wholly she dropped in the fir needles so to let them seep. She was so weary that she scarcely noticed what she was doing, and the pot almost fell over and into the fire. The dragon, who was resting contently nearby, growled deeply so to get her attention and Rose unthinkingly raced her hands out to seize the handles. Hissing in response to the heated metal, she quickly jerked the pot straight and inspected her hands. It was not a severe burn only a thick glossy pink band on her palms which she submerged into a cooling piling of snow.

The dragon leaned in closer and snaked his head around to her, nuzzling her arm with his snout in interest. Rose looked up at him, she could see herself reflected in his eye, and they regarded each other then she felt his mind, tinted with curiosity, touch her own and instead of the images she was customary with she heard a deep, almost musical voice.

_Hurt. Are you?_

She started in alarm and nearly toppled over.

He blinked, and the ridges above his eyes shifted, no longer emitting curiosity but wryness and, even, amusement.

_You hurt?_

With her mouth agape, she stared at the dragon as he shifted, his scales, covered in globules, shimmered in the firelight like hardened gems. The dragon thumped his tail loudly and Rose shook her head in astonishment.

"So you talk now, is that it?" she asked the dragon, struggling to compose herself.

Tornac stirred beside her and opened his eyes looking at her feverishly, his eyes glossed over, and Rose simply pointed to the dragon, seeming too tired to inquire about it he returned to his previous position.

_Maybe._ The dragon beat his tail against the ground.

Her eyes widened at the unexpected reply and she glanced at the dragon questioningly before turning away to mind the fire, drawing the hood of her cloak snugly over her head she pushed the dragon from her mind. Rose felt rather thick for disregarding the dragon's intelligence, she had heard various rumors that the King's dragon Shruikan had the ability to speak with words but she always thought them to be just that; rumors and nothing more.

Rose was scooping out the boiling tea into the wood carved mugs with the ladle, when Ailis returned seated regally on top of Lanorgrim, looking both grim faced and proud. Ailis slid off the horse's stooped back and quickly unsaddled him before falling gracelessly close to the fire next to Rose.

"I'll have some of that," Ailis said pointing to the green tinted liquid. Rose offered Ailis her untouched mug filled with a giddy tea, which Ailis took greedily, and stood up to fetch a third out of the pack, placing a mug filled to the brim with tea on the ground next to Tornac while walking past him.

"This is a pleasant change," Ailis commented, tugging off her tatty fingered gloves. "What brought it on?"

Rose glanced at Ailis and sat in the same place as before and stirred the tea. "Tornac is getting worse," she said quickly, "We cannot keep going scrambling around like dogs in the wild, we have to move and find some shelter soon."

Ailis shot Rose a look of black anger. "Do you think that I do not know this?" Ailis retorted crossly, causing Tornac to flinch violently, gasping for air and looking around startled, both Ailis and Rose looked around at him as he settled. Then Ailis took a deep calming breath and said in a kinder tone, "Forgive me, Rose. I know your concerned for him, I am as well, but I cannot simply magic a road to appear."

Rose hesitated. "I was not asking you to do so," Rose said softly, pouring herself tea.

Ailis nodded taking a sip of the tea from the mug and swallowed loudly, sputtering with distaste. "This very pungent," she said with a cough, "Did you put a heap of needles in?"

"I suppose so," Rose said smiling faintly as Ailis peered inside the pot and groaned.

"That would an understatement," mumbled Ailis, standing up and walking away. When she came back she spread some food between them: dried fruits and meats and a single tough looking biscuit. "Eat," she said. "Then we'll labor through your swordcraft before bed, it has been sorely neglected since Tornac fell ill."

Rose broke the biscuit in two in response.

When they were done eating, Ailis lead Rose to just past the reaches of the fire's glow to and looked Rose over sternly before unbuckling her shortsword from her belt, requiring that Rose do the same.

Rose found Ailis to be more severe than Tornac, constantly growling out bizarre remarks to bewilder, anger, and one time insult her, and Ailis was not as talented as he; her reflexes were swift and she was very strong despite her size, but she was no elegant fighter, but she was just as instance. When Rose quietly remarked on this, Ailis simply laughed.

"You have been sparring only with Tornac," said Ailis, "who comes from a family where a great skill of swordcraft is their birthright, and so it no surprise that I do not meet his abilities."

Frowning Rose tightened her grip on her sword thoughtfully. "I've been meaning to ask you, Ailis, where you had learned your skill?"

"I'd rather not say," said Ailis, her face hidden in shadow. "Now let's start again."

Ailis took over the swordcraft lessons for a about a week, under Ailis' tutorage Rose's accuracy and skill grew with her confidence. Ailis, despite her occasional remarks, was a patient and encouraging teacher and Rose also was no longer a raw beginner: holding the sword no longer felt strange and she had quick reactions and had a good natural balance. After a time Ailis began to coach her in unarmed combat, and Rose began to feel for the first that she might be able to hold her own against attack.

"Don't get over overconfident," Tornac warned breathlessly from the sidelines. "You are still only a beginner. It's the stroke you don't see that kills you."

Rose looked at him sourly.

That night they camped in a deep hallow in a shelter of two huge rocks that leaned together at a rough angle, creating a natural roof. Rose was on first watch and sat at the edge of the dell, looking over the silent hills and the stars burning over them. She was very tired, but she was use to fighting her wariness, and to pass the time she sent her mind out in search of the dragon. She felt and heard nothing. The dragon had taken off late in the afternoon that day and Rose has not been able to touch his mind since. She shifted on the hard ground nervously; it was very cold, and her legs cramped with stiffness.

Three hours after sundown the half-moon climbed into the starry heavens and cast a chilly light over the landscape. Rose was thinking that it was time she moved about in attempt to warm herself, when she heard a noise. Immediately she sharpened her mind and sent out after the noise; it was barely distinguishable from the wind but she heard the familiar flapping of wings. A mind connected with her own, and the dragon sent a warm emotion her way in greeting and she stood looking into the sky. The dragon had not spoken to her in words, not since Ailis taken over her lessons, instead returning to his silent emotions and visions to communicate.

At last Rose spotted him as he descended from the darkened sky. The snow swirled into the air as he loudly landed in front of her and she frowned at him.

"Where have you been?" she asked him.

A vision of a shaggy kind of deer darting down a hill, flickered across her mind, it turned its head around with gleaming black eyes wide with fear, its breath was rapid and shallow from the exertion of its run, and its bulk trembled in fear its tail twitching. The creature dashed to its right and stumbled into a hole twisting its limbs, and the cracking of bones could be heard. The loud sound of flapping wings, not unlike the deafening boom of thunder, and the deer was getting closer until it could be seen with one eye, it twitched and attempted to stand only to fall back down and screech in panic. Rose pushed the dragon's mind away with disgust.

"No need to go any farther, I understand, you were hunting," said Rose, a vile taste in her mouth. She swallowed. "You've been away for quite some time, it's a wonder that you spent all your time catching a meal."

The dragon pounded the ground with its tail and folded his wings.

Feeling the dragon's mind touch her own once more, she opened to it and gasped. A vision of a small town, from high above in the sky, leagues from where they were now, with a beaten dirt path down its middle.

Rose turned toward the dragon.

"You came across a town?" she asked.

The dragon established that he had indeed glided over a settlement with another image of the town.

Rose grinned openly, truly enlivened for the first time since parting from Urû'baen, at the dragon. "Thank you!" she said breathlessly. "Oh, thank you, little menace, I cannot say how grand of news this is."

The dragon's ruby eyes gleamed happily and she looked at his bulk thoughtfully.

"You can no long go by 'little menace', I think," she said suddenly.

The dragon merely blinked.

She sighed, a curl of vapor churned into the air. "You ought to have a name to go by."

An image, crossed Rose's mind, of tingled briar branches and attached to the vision was an emotion. Recognizing the dragon's tinges of amusement, she narrowed her eyes at him angrily.

"'Sweetbriar?'" she asked raising an eyebrow, "You wish to be called 'Sweetbriar'? That's rather formidable."

The dragon sent his disapproval. _No._

She momentary started as his voice echoed loudly in her mind.

"What then?"

Grumbling, the dragon faintly drummed his tail against the ground and sent another vivid vision of the sweetbriars.

"I don't understand," she said. "Can you not tell me instead of sending me riddling images?"

The dragon thumped his tail loudly causing Rose to flitch, and focused the vision of briars to its small sharp details. _Thorn,_ he said.

She stared at him in surprise.

"Thorn, indeed," Rose muttered.

The next day they headed toward the north.

When the sun was at its highest, as Thorn had promised, they saw thin lines of smoke rising on the horizon far in front of them. Forcing the horses into a fast gait, they rode throughout the day hunched against the icy rain, their cloaks clapping loudly behind them from the chilling wind.

They reached the unwalled hamlet well after dark that day. The hamlet was a collection of maybe two dozen houses, looking less like a habitation and more of a battlefield. At least three houses had been burned down, and nobody seemed to have bothered to clean away its remains. Other houses seemed to have been abandoned, their shutters swinging in the breeze, their doors hanging drunkenly off their hinges.

They entered the town quietly and headed to a small and a, surprisingly, comfortable inn called the Lazy Oak. Rose was numb with cold and tiredness, and was grateful for the respite from the rain. It wasn't long before Ailis roused the inn keeper, who looked curiously at them but admitted them cheerfully and, after stabling their horses, showed them to a small pair of low-eaved rooms linked by a comfortable sitting room, in which he hastily lit a fire.

"Too late for dinner, by some hours, begging your pardon," said the innkeeper with a slight accent. "Can I get you some spiced wine, perhaps? You look half frozen."

He bust out eagerly not waiting for an answer, and Tornac wasted no time falling into one of the beds. Ailis threw her cloak onto a chair and leaned towards the fire.

"Perhaps it is a good thing our large friend hatched for you," she said.

Rose nodded with a yawn and explored the rooms, and she found, to her delight, that there was even a bathroom, although it didn't have hot water. With intense relief she washed hair and body, and changed into the last set of clean clothes from her pack. She returned to their sitting room to find Tornac swiftly asleep.

"We'll stay here tomorrow and the next day," said Ailis slumped by the fire. "I think we're safe enough; I doubt anyone will notice us here. I want to buy some supplies and we need to do some washing. And we could do with a rest before we go on."

Rose agreed and sat down close to Ailis. She contacted Thorn through her mind to tell him the information and to see if he was settled. They, Rose and Thorn, decided that he was to stay near a knoll veiled by thick trunked trees just within their mind-touch incase they need contact one another.

_Safe?_ He asked.

Rose rubbed her hands together, still uneasy with his voice. _We are. And you?_

He grumbled through his mind. _Yes._

_Ailis says we shall stay here awhile. I cannot say I disagree with her, Tornac is in a rather ill state. _

Thorn paused, sending his emotions to her instead of words.

_I don't understand you, Thorn, _Rose told him, _use your words._

She felt as he began to thump his tail._ When you come, I will be here,_ Thorn said before breaking off their contact. Looking around, Rose noticed that Ailis had also gone to bed and for the first time since Thorn hatched she felt completely alone.

* * *

_A/N: I didn't get half of what I wanted written in this chapter other then then Thorn choosing his name and them reaching a town. I'm iffy about Thorn's naming, but I couldn't think of anyother way to do it, so there it is. As for Thron talking, Saphira first talked to Eragon when she was little over 14 nights old but unlike her, Thorn waited until he felt that it was nessacary to do so. A lot of time passed in this chapter and those who want to know, Brom, Eragon, and Saphira are probably well out of Palancar Valley._


	16. Chapter 12

_I do not own the Inheritance Cycle. I used the Pellinor book series to help me with some of details and so I disclaim those as well. __  
__Enjoy,_

* * *

**The Lazy Oak**

When Rose emerged from her bed the next day the sun was high, and only then because Thorn was pestering her through their mind-link. Sleepily she fended him off, trying to crawl back into the enchanting space of dream, where she was warm and comfortable. She had forgotten where she was and expected that with wakefulness would come the dripping twigs, wet hard ground, and the bone-aching cold that had been routine but the warmth didn't disappear, and she suddenly remembered where she was and sat up, instantly awake.

_What is it, Thorn?_ Rose asked irritably, rubbing the sleep from her eyes.

The dragon grumbled in his mind and sent her his concern. _The dark has lightened, the day-circle is high, and you have not yet risen._

Removing the nest of hair from in front of her face, Rose drew the sheets back and sat with her feet dangling off the side of the bed.

_The 'day-circle'? _Rose repeated with a smirk, stretching her arms out in front of her. _It's called the 'sun', Thorn. Is that why you woke me? To tell that the sun is up and I am not, or is something amiss?_

_No._

_Then if nothing is wrong do not wake me again. I was enjoying the rest._ She felt the dragon grumble forlornly, still dismayed at have to linger in his isolated patch of woodlands, and withdraw from her mind.

Rose stood up, shivering as the cool flooring offended her bare feet, dressed in leggings and long tunic before padding out of the room into the small sitting room. There she found Ailis seated on a stout divan, wearing the same dark cotton dress she had worn during their flight from Urû'baen, sipping quietly from a tin goblet. She looked up when Rose entered.

"Time for a late breakfast!" Ailis said. "There is much to be done today and we cannot afford to dally." Rose wiped the strands of knotted hair from her face. The last thing she felt like facing was a long day of work, of any sort, though she thought that much could not be done in this town, but she agreed, and after a quick wash Rose and Ailis went to the taproom for a meal, allowing Tornac the opportunity to rest peacefully in their rooms.

The taproom was a austere room with a sandstone hearth, over which stood a unfilled dented copper ewer, with wood-planked walls stained by years of wood smoke, and stained runners on the dark wooden floor. A few farmers sat quietly at tables drinking the black local beer, but otherwise it was almost empty.

The innkeeper, a portly man called Digne, was serving drinks, and Ailis ordered them some wine and a breakfast of sausages and fresh bread. Ailis also asked about finding a market, and was told that there was a decent one in the town of Cartama which was only a two hour ride east, and asked after their soiled attire, Digne arranged for their washing to be taken to the lauders, where it would be ready by the next morning. Not long after the innkeeper went to serve another table, a little boy about four with a pale stock of curly hair and wide eyes served the wine, carrying the clay carafe with great seriousness, as if he carried the most precious crystal, and Ailis thanked him soberly. Shortly afterward Digne's wife, an overly cheerful woman with the same hair as her son, brought them their meal. After the thin fare of the previous weeks Rose's mouth was watering, and Ailis was taken aback by how quickly her serving disappeared. Once the food was cleared away, and two scratched tin goblets were refilled to the brim with golden wine, they sat without speaking in the nook by the fire, very well content.

"Your husband fit, ma'am?" asked the Digne in passing, as he carried some beers to another table. "Couldn't help but notice that he looked a tad under the weather, I did."

"It's nothing a short rest can't mend," Ailis said dropping her voice into a southern accent.

"Just passing through, is you?"

"That's the idea. My husband's brother is expecting us up over in Meher in a week's time."

"Meher's quite a ways over west," said Digne, shifting on his feet and ducking his head as one of the farmers called him over. "Just wanted to make sure your husband wasn't in a bad state. Have a good day, ladies." He turned away and served the men over at a table far from them, chattering happily with the rough weathered men.

"That was interesting," Rose said quietly. "I cannot bring myself to believe that he came over here to simply exchange pleasantries."

Ailis nodded in agreement, her lips pressed together in a hard line. "Come along, there is much that must be done today and I don't fancy wandering from here unaccompanied."

Ailis and Rose then made their way to where they saddled their horses and after saddling them, they rode through the snow to the diminutive market in the town of Cartama in the east. Rose had never been to a town market, only the overly crowded market in the many webbed streets of Urû'baen, and even then never had she been given the opportunity to join the crowd or even observe their proceedings, and so she was both fascinated by the colors and smells. There were huge orange pumpkins, purple and green jumbled winter cabbages, green and gold squashes and streaky red apples, sweet and slightly wrinkled from winter storage. There were piles of dried beans and peas, and yellow lentils, brown grains, bunches of garlic and onions, sacks of hazels, walnuts, and almonds, and great rounds of cheeses wrapped in leaves plumped fatly on wooden trestles. Over everything was the drifting smell of freshly baked breads and roasting chestnuts, and everywhere were the sounds of donkeys braying and cows lowing and goats bleating in distant stalls and dogs barking and the chattering of townspeople bargaining.

First they went into a petite sweet smelling bakery, where people cast them odd and distrustful looks, before they stopped by a the clothiers, where a demanding withered woman with wiry hair covered by a blue felt hat decorated with bells that jiggled loudly as she moved about, and Ailis bargained over a plain olive-colored dress made of rough wool which she handed immediately presented to Rose. "We're enough of a curiosity without proper dress traveling about in winter, and I'd rather people didn't snoop," Ailis explained as they whisked to the butchery.

Ailis assisted Rose slip into the one of the shop's backrooms, while no one was looking, and there she was able to change into the dress. Stuffing only her tunic into Ailis' shoulder bag, she had left her leggings on under the dress for warmth, she walked back outside, scarcely flitting around the hefty shopkeeper, and rejoined Ailis at the edge of the square where two minstrels were playing the pipes and a fiddle. They were dressed in bright clothes, with cobalt scarves tied around their necks, and a hat laid on the ground in front of them for coins. They sang about foolish farmers and lovelorn lasses, and a haunting ballad of a man who fell in love with a tree sprite, and a silly song about a drunken barber who fell into a well. Rose stood enchanted, until an angry sentinel chased the players away, pocketing the few coins from in the hat, and after that Ailis dragged her off to do more shopping.

Ailis drifted in a leisurely fashion around the market chatting with the stallholders, Rose following behind silently. As the sellers told them of the recent events, Rose slowly began to feel disheartened and troubled, and began wishing to leave the market and ride back the unnamed hamlet that they were currently staying at.

They returned from Cartama to the Lazy Oak before dusk, with a supply of dried fruits and meats, barely flour and grain, a little oil and vinegar, some tough bread that would keep up for two weeks, and a small sack of oaks for the horses, and there they packed their baggage. Tornac had arisen from bed at last, glassy eyed and still flushed with fever, and they decided that they should eat in their room that night and arranged for a meal to be brought to them. They ate a tasty roast with crumpled vegetables followed by tasty creamed apple tarts in routine silence, and Rose took care to eat slowly as her stomach had been offended by the haste in which she ate in that morning.

"That was a king among tarts," commented Tornac when Digne came to clear away the plate. The innkeeper smiled happily at him looking pleased.

"Nesta will be grand happy to hear that," he said. "She takes a lot of care in cooking, so she does, even if some don't care to notice."

"Things have gotten worse over the past few years, that for sure," said Tornac. "My cousin runs an inn near Belatona, and can scarce keep body and soul together.

Digne's crooked eyebrows lifted, and Rose saw with alarm that he looked as if were settling in for a long chat. "I hear the taxes is getting worse in the south. And them titled folk leave scarce little for the people to make life with, living high on the sweat of others with nary a thank-you." said he with a sad shake of head.

"It's bad, make no mistakes," Tornac paused to cough hoarsely into his hands. "These may be dark days indeed, Mr. Digne But not all folks are like that, some are still decent."-he fought back a cough- "Dark days or no, I have to get some sleep."

"And I have my own business to be getting to, instead of yammering here like an old woman," said Digne. "A good night to you!"

After he left, Ailis, who had sat silently beside Rose during the conversion, stood up and locked the door. She looked thoughtful. "I don't know about you but I'm going to use the advantages of bathing while there's a chance to do so," Ailis said, and left the room.

Tornac coughed once more, before he too stood and excused himself, leaving Rose alone in on the diven. There she sat dreamily sipping on hot spiced wine, staring into the fire, feeling the warmth. The wind brew thick flakes of snow against the window and howled through the trees outside, and she felt extremely grateful she wasn't out in the night. As soon as she finished the wine, she roused herself contacted Thorn before heading to bed.

Waking late the next morning, Rose emerged feeling stronger than she had in a long time. She lounged lazily, feeling no hurry to rise. There would be plenty of hastiness again soon, so why not enjoy a comfortable bed while she could?

Eventually, she got out of bed and clothed herself in the stiff, abrasive dress, Ailis purchased the prior day, before padding into the sitting room where Ailis and Tornac were eating a breakfast of sausages, boiled eggs, and black beans. She sat down near them and joined them in their meal.

Over their meal, they discussed their immediate plans. Ailis thought they should leave for Ludène, an ample sized town that balanced along the rocky shores of Woadark Lake, the following day. "I think our best bet to voyage on the road for now," she said. "I imagine that if your health were to decline again, Tornac, we would be within the reaches of aid."

Tornac eyed her over his wine glass, which was raised close to his mouth, and he took a long draft.

"What about Thr- our sizable friend?" asked Rose. "We cannot have him pursuing us along the road, surely, someone will be bound to notice him."

Ailis hesitated. "It might be best to ask him that question."

_Travel along the road if you must._ Thorn's voice sounded loudly in Rose's head: he had been so quiet she had forgotten she was still in connection with him through their mind-touch. _I will fly high so that no will see me._

When he remained silent she turned to Ailis, who was moving the beans around the plate with her knife in distaste, and told her of the dragon's answer. Ailis nodded in understanding, and pushed the beans away. "Rest up while you can," Ailis said, getting up to check in on the horses. "I'm planning on us leaving early tomorrow."

For the rest of the day, they lounged in the inn and it wasn't long before Rose grew weary of the wood grained walls, and she walked outside to observe a group of grubby, barefoot children that were playing in the road. From the shadowing overhang of the stables she saw the children were pitifully thin and their clothes were rags and scraps, barely enough to keep them warm in the summertime let alone winter. They were playing a sort of game she had never seen before, one of the children had a rag tied around his head covering his eyes and the other children ran around him shouting out nonsense until the blinded child would grab at them. After a time a small child, little more than two years, was shoved out of the way by an older girl as she ran out of the way of the blindfolded boy, and began to bawl as he fell into a puddle. One of boys, with a mass of black hair on his head, backhanded the girl across her head and the wet boy began to scream more loudly causing the boy with his eyes covered to rip off the cloth and shout angrily at them.

Suddenly a door shot open and a big woman ran out, holding a frying pan, screaming. "'nough o' this, hollerin' an' whatsnot! What do ya thinkin' ya doin'? Getter back ta yer mo'her awl o' ya!"

The children looked up, frightened, and scrambled off into one of the houses.

After the woman shuffled back inside her home, Rose hurried inside the Lazy Oak up the narrow stairway and into the rooms they were renting. For the rest of the day, she stayed inside talking silently with Thorn, as Tornac was sleeping the day away and Ailis was nowhere to be found.

Rose woke in the blackness before dawn to the sound of rain drumming on the roof, and she sighed. Reluctantly she dragged herself out of the warm bed and dressed, shivering in the cold. She, Tornac and Ailis made a hasty breakfast, standing up in the kitchen with Digne and his wife before walking to the sables and after burdening their horses they rode out into the mucky streets of the hamlet. A rainy blackness covered them, and Rose contacted Thorn, and he agreed to fly high above them. The half moon westered slowly into long bands of dark clouds, giving little light. She looked back at the welcoming golden lit windows of the inn through the darkness, and thought of the warm shelter they had left.


	17. Chapter 13

___I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
Enjoy,_

* * *

**The Spine**

For the rest of the day they rode along the undulating road, through towns and hamlets and past lone farmhouses. Some places were as devastated as the hamlet they had rested in, while others seemed untouched. But over everything was an obscurity: they frequently saw derelict structures, last autumn's harvests lying blighted in the fields, and stray dogs wandering the foothills in search of food. Everywhere were the signs of coming famine, and in every town there were beggars, turning toward them in a plea for alms.

As they pressed closer The Spine, they passed an entire family who were heading to a town with all their possessions piled on a wagon drawn by bullocks. Children sat at the back, their feet dangling, bickering shrilly. The few men and women stared hungrily ahead, as if they already despaired of the hope that had brought them to the road. One of the men, Rose noticed, wore no shoes and his feet were bleeding. They also passed single travelers, on foot or horseback, loaded down with heavy packs.

These were hard sights to bear, and Rose, Ailis and Tornac spoke less and less as the day wore on, tacitly agreeing to camp far from the road before night came. As dusk deepened they voyaged off the road and trekked through the piles of sodden snow to a small overhanging of a huge oak in the distance. When the sky had darkened completely and they ate a uninspiring meal of tough bread and dried meat, Thorn landed close by and swiftly greeted them before laying down protectively, staring ahead towards the road. They kept watch in shifts, but heard nothing more sinister than a weasel freckled with winter's pallid fur, which Thorn terrorized by growling threateningly at it, watching merrily as it shrilled in fear and scattered for cover. The following evening they made camp under around a rock face with a slight overhang and again they slept in shifts, and again they saw and heard nothing.

In the following days they rode hard through the patching woods and farmlands and into the mountain pass. The weather began to clear, but there was a deathly chill in the air each night.

As they traveled, Ailis passed the time by teaching Rose the alphabet and structure of the Ancient Language but never the words of the tongue. She taught of the mysteries, and of its peculiar histories, of the language's purpose and principles, of the behavior of wild birds, and the properties of plants. Rose was also told of the different legends about the appearance of on the content of the Grey Folk, and how none were agreed on their origins. Ailis did not mention dragons or the reticent elves that resided in Du Weldenvarden at all. By listening to these forms of knowledge, and beginning to understand them, made the present seem all the more real. After the shock of Thorn's hatching and all the events that had preceded it- everything that had happened since leaving Urû'baen- she wished that they were merely journeying, and not on this urgent quest. She pushed away the thought of being a Dragon Rider and all the important words and responsibilities that seemed to have nothing to do with her.

Most evenings, as Tornac slowly regained his strength, they drew out their swords and spared together. Rose learned in these days how to fight together with a partner and how to defend against two different blades. More often than not Ailis and Tornac teamed together against Rose and she pressed harder than before, and soon she learned to rely on Thorn, who watched them intensely from the sidelines and warned her of their trickier plays when he saw fit, allowing her a short moment to raise her sword in attempt to block the assault.

At noon on the seventh day on the dirt path, they entered the pass through the Spine and arrived in Ludène late that night, passing through the town to a small inn, where for one wonderful night they ate, bathed, and slept in comfortable beds. And then they were on the road again, before the sun crept over the horizon, pursuing their journey west.

The sun was beginning to tinge the horizon with dull reds and ochers as they passed through a less inhabited region dotted only with solitary shepherd huts. After a couple of hours the road wound close to the towering white crags of The Spine. There they slowed down and trotted through dripping trees, hearing only the sound of birdsong of the dull clop of the horses' hooves.

Rose was running through the alphabet of the Ancient Language, she had learned in the past days. It passed the time, and the soft cadence of the horses' hoofs crushing the dwelling snow melded into the rhythm of letters.

She was jolted out of her contemplations by Thorn, who was circling so high above them he resembled a vulture, watching their proceedings. _Two and three have been following you,_ he told her. _They carry stringed curved sticks._

Rose glanced behind her and after seeing only the forsaken road she looked up at the sky and sought after the faint outline that was Thorn. _I don't see a soul. How far behind are they?_ She asked.

_Not far. They travel off the path._

_Have they been following us long?_ Rose ran her fingers over the worn leather reins, picking at the reedy creaks with her nails.

_I first saw them when the sun turned the sky to fire, _Thorn said._ I have been watching them._

_Why did you not say anything about them before?_

_I was in doubt they followed you, now I am not._

She breathed out loudly and turned her head back to the road. She studied the Ailis' straight, unbending back for a short moment. "We're being pursued," said Rose dourly. Both Ailis and Tornac whipped their heads around and studied the road behind them. "They are off the road, traveling around the trees. Thorn says that there are five of them and that they are armed."

"How far behind are they?" asked Tornac.

Rose quickly repeated the question to Thorn, and when he answered she said, "Not far."

"Do they mean harm, I wonder," Ailis mussed, almost to herself. "It seems rather possible. You say we have been followed, but for how long?"

"Thorn said that he first saw them at sunrise."

"For so long," Ailis said thoughtfully, fingering the hilt of her sword, looking into the woodland surrounding them.

For a moment they all stared at each other, the same thought in all their minds. Then they pushed their horse on so sharply Eowyn stumbled, and began to ride through the path. The road was straight before them, and Lanorgrim stretched flat into a full gallop. Shadowless began to fall behind, and Tornac roughly commanded him forth, and the blackened horse bolted with a new speed. Now they were bolting down the road; Lanorgrim was still ahead of them, but the gap between Shadowless and Eowyn was no longer growing.

Rose leaned forward in the saddle, the wind of their speeding lashed her hair into her mouth, and she tried desperately to spit it out. A whirring sound like a large bee, and a _thock,_ as if something hit wood, echoed over the loud clomping the horse's hooves as they clouted heavily against the earth. She had time to reflect that she had heard the sound before, and that she didn't like it, when she heard it again; then she felt a sharp edge rend across the skin of her arm, she gasped as the pain tingled up into her shoulder. Without command the horses plunged into a mad gallop, and Ailis was shouting, "Down! Arrows! Lay your head _down!_"

She obeyed instinctively, hiding her face against Eowyn's neck, and hung on desperately as Eowyn dashed wildly, trying to keep up the Lanorgrim. She realized that she must have been hit by an arrow, and was grateful it didn't spear her. She dared to look back once and saw nothing through the trees.

_You hurt?_ Thorn asked in agitation. Rose could feel his fury in her mind, twisting and coiling like black smoke.

_Not badly,_ she said._ Where are they?_

_Hidden. I can no longer see them._

_Keep high, Thorn, I don't want them to see you._ She told him, as they wound in a loop around the trees. Thorn sent her his displeasure, but kept in the heights of the sky so that he was hidden only by distance.

The horses slowed down to a canter, and then, as they reached a place where a large rocky shelf butted out of the woods, Ailis halted them with a signal of her hand, her face grave and alert. She led them to the rock, and they stood there, their backs to the stony wall, which stretched upward for about fifteen feet before ending with a slight overhang. Rose could hear the sound of horsemen pursuing them, approaching both along the road and through the trees, cutting through the loop of the road.

"We cannot race on wildly, with such pursuit," said Ailis, drawing her bow out from behind her back and notching it with a feathered tipped arrow. "We will have to stand here. At the least they cannot come up behind us."

"There are five of them and only three of us. We're outnumbered," said Rose fearfully.

"However, we are not outmatched," Tornac said, his sword resting across his lap. "Best draw your sword, Rose. Remember what you have been taught in order to defend yourself. It is always smarter not to have to fight at all but if it comes down to it, don't be afraid of running away."

Rose scoffed at the thought of fleeing, it seemed a rather cowardly act to her.

"And not to overestimate what you handle," she said, "I haven't forgotten, Tornac."

Feeling for her sword, Rose looked at her arm were the arrow had grazed her; it was a long slanting cut that had already ceased bleeding, and she fingered it tenderly cringing as it burned and tingled from the movement. When her fingers grasped the bedecked hilt, she tugged the blade out noiselessly and looked towards the twisting road. Ailis sat beside her patiently, as still as stone, a long shining arrow drawn back tensely ready to sail through the air at a moment's notice. Tornac was shifting uneasily on Shadowless, staring ahead at the bend in the road with watering eyes. His was face pale and withdrawn.

It seemed that their pursuers would never come, but nevertheless a stout figure came trotting around the bend, and then another. They bore arrows set in bows and were cloaked in thick bronzed pelts. It seemed as if the men did not see them at first, as they looked around into the trees going slowly now as they hunted. Another horse came over the mound and joined them. Then the stout man, who seemed to the leader, looked up and sighted them, laughing he waved his fellows over. The horsemen let down their bows and trotted at their leisure toward them. Rose began to feel terror screwing up inside her like a vice, and she glanced about looking for the fifth and final rider, when she did sight him she contacted Thorn.

_You say there are five, correct?_ Rose asked him, not taking her eyes off the advancing horsemen.

_I did._

_I see only four. Can spot the fifth or is he still hidden from you?_

Thorn snorted and there was a short pause. _Not hidden, lingering behind. Be careful. I do not like this._

Rose did not break off their mind-touch, as she had done before, and adjusted her hold on the hilt of her sword nervously, watching as the men advanced.

When they were about thirty feet away, Tornac shouted indignantly, in the accent of the south. "What were you shooting for? You could of killed us. I'm going to complain to the authorities, I am."

The leading rider halted. "You could go squawking all you like, old man." His voice was raspy, as if he had spent a night too many slumbering in a bed of blowing sand. "A ghost in the wind for all the good it might do you." The three men behind put their arrows to the string, and Rose looked desperately at Ailis, who was lowering her bow, her face expressionless.

Tornac's face hardened, his scar twisting into his face, and he tightened his grip on his sword. "I can go into the wood if I want, without being chased and murdered, by the likes of you."

"Death is the price for insolence," said the man. "But we will merciful, and give you a choice. You can hand over your goods, all your goods, if you be getting my meaning," he nodded meanfully in Ailis' and Rose direction, "and we will let you live." He laughed, and the men moved closer to them.

Tornac scowled so deeply his lips disappeared and for a moment his face twisted in anger but his irritation faded quickly, and he took on a look of a dim-witted man with a slacken jaw and wide eyes.

"I have nothing to give, sirs," said Tornac. "Just on my own business is all, not asking for trouble, I am."

"Allow me to show you what you have," the leading man said with a laugh, he lifted his bow.

The man loosed an arrow straight at Ailis, and Rose's heart almost failed her, in her mind she could fell as Thorn as dived toward them. Before she knew what happened, the arrow exploded in flames and fell to smoldering ashes on the ground before them.

The leading man stopped in surprise, and cursed passionately as two of his followers turned bolted toward the trees. At that second Ailis stretched her hand out before her and cried out, "_Jeirda Kuistar!_" and a bolt of mauve light arched from her fingers to the branches above escaping the men. The branches made a deafening fracturing noise as they fell to the ground, knocking the two men from their horses and onto the ground, where they lay unmoving.

_Thorn, no!_ Rose shouted in mind, suddenly remembering that he was plunging toward the ground. _Stay to the sky and don't let them see you._

Thorn sent her a wave of fury, so mighty that she nearly toppled off the side her horse.

Rose was able to right herself quick enough to witness the other two men spur on their horses and charge at them. Tornac raised his sword steadily outwards close to Shadowless' thick neck, the horse lifted his head and neighed in apprehension. Ailis lifted her hands again, crying out as she did so, and there was a blast of light it hit one of the men and he fell, his horse bolted wildly off through the trees. Ailis swayed dizzily, her face slowly draining of its color, before straightening herself. She seemed to Rose taller and more regal, her face stern and grim, but her eyes illuminated with a strange wildness, almost in joy. The last man halted the horse and hung back, before hastily releasing an arrow above them, then he roughly commanding the horse away and into the woods. Before he dashed out of sight, Ailis stretched out her arms, and a purple light struck the man. He toppled off his horse and fell to the ground, died.

Tornac leapt off his horse in a debonair manner, effortlessly and lithe, and silently walked over the dead men. Overcoming a shudder of horror, Rose followed him with her eyes. The men lay twisted under their hide cloak. Tornac lifted the edge of one of the cloaks with his boot, and whistled lowly before turning to Ailis.

"I recall you saying that you no longer performed such actions. What happened?" he asked.

Ailis grimaced. "I suppose it best explained in saying that I had an elapse in my temper."

"No doubt," Tornac said dryly. "I will take care not to anger you in the future!"

"We should leave this place," said Rose warily, shifting on top of Eowyn. "I'd rather the fifth person didn't show face."

Tornac looked over and studied Rose's face gravely, and Rose stared back impassively, her heart beating wildly in her chest. "Yes, we do not want to wish the same fate on him as his companions have met. And we would detest for you to have more blood on your hands, Ailis."

Ailis laughed severely. "How very humorous you are, Tornac," she said. "Shall we go, or shall we tally and hunt down this last rider?"

"Go, I'm thinking. I would like to be far from this place by nightfall," said Tornac, returning to Shadowless. He stoked the horse's proud neck, which was rimed with sweat, before mounting. Without out any further word, they pressed forward, galloping swiftly through the woods. The shadow of branches passed over them like ripples in a hurried stream.

They did not stop until midafternoon, passing out of the woods on the other side of The Spine into empty grassland in which sometimes there was evidence of a farm long ago abandoned: a row in trees which once made a wind block, or orchard grown wild, and remains of a house, its roof collapsed and walls crumbing overgrown with ivy or moss. The snow had melted away, revealing tussocks of soft grass, dried strands of reed, and feathery purpled heather, which perfumed the air with its sweet smelling nectar. Rose breathed the smell in deeply, even in Urû'baen such an aroma had never been captured, there had been craftsmen who would boil down these heathers to liquid and bottle them for profit. She remembered that she had an oblong green glassed bottle filled with the musty scent back in her former chambers, but it was a disgracw in comparison the wildland's unbound fragrance.

Rose was still shaky with the aftershock of their battle and the deeds Ailis had preformed, and the strange expression that she saw on the woman's face. It was a savage lust for blood, Rose knew this now. She had seen it once before many years ago but it was a hard sight to forget. Although she was moved by no pity for the men, she felt again that proverbial fear that nagged her throughout her childhood. But she flinched away from these thoughts, and concentrated on keeping up with Tornac and kept her hearing alert for any signs of pursuit, as she had given up on speaking with Thorn who was in a foul mood, but she heard nothing.

They had gone about twenty miles with at last Ailis called a halt. They lunched hastily in a miserable corpse of trees. As soon as Rose dismounted placing her feet on the ground, the ground swallowed her bottoms of her boots in the blackened, sticky, moss covered mud, Thorn dived out of the sky and landed fiercely in front of them, his wings half raised. He grumbled angrily and his tail pounded against the ground, causing the horses to whinny and scatter back in fright. Incensed by Thorn behavior and lack of response throughout the day, Rose struggled to calm Eowyn by messaging her silky neck to get her to calm down, before she turned to Thorn, she had never seen him this angry. _What is troubling you?_

Thorn thumped his tail into the soft ground and gave her a fierce look, his red eyes scintillating like flames. He grumbled deeply within his bulk and transmitted to her in their mind-touch the events of the day how he had perceived them from far above the ground. His emotions were strong and genuine, and Rose reeled from their intensity as she offend did when spoke in this way. After a short moment, she was able to identify what was riling him most, and she almost felt like laughing.

_Is that all?_ she told him._ It is but a scratch, Thorn, no need to fret so. And please use your words next time, it takes less time for me to identify the matter._

Crouching close to the mossy ground, with his length hovering just above the green, Thorn grumbled at her once more. _I am not worried about the scratch,_ he said.

_What then?_ Rose asked. _I am tiring of these riddles and words games. For once just tell me._

Thorn blinked but returned no answer, instead he turned away and watched the horizon, his tail brandishing across the mixture of grass and moss.

Rose heaved a sigh and sat down close to Tornac, looking up into the lofty trees, watching as the tattered chandeliering moss swung in the sultry breeze. Grimacing as a considerably sized colorless spider crawled out from the tangled strands and crawled up the stock, she glanced down at the sodden road. The road bordered a crumbling stone wall, about seven or ten feet high, and they were now riding westward alongside it. Ailis said the Westwall ran for leagues, marking a forgotten city that was ravaged by sickness and an ancient war, protecting and memorializing the crypts from the wildlands beyond. "These is another reason the wall is there, of course," said Ailis, "Some believe the land itself to cursed and the wall is there to protect us from any dismayed specters that wish to display their wrath from a untimely and brutal death. I wouldn't worry too much about it, it is but a tale to frighten young children so that they might think twice before wandering over its crumbling walls to explore."

About five miles on they found a huge, woody ivy that forced apart the stones, and the tick wall had collapsed into rubble. Rose slowed down, so look over a landscape even more inundated and green then the one they traveled on: low scrubs of leatherleaf and sweet gale and labrador tea, under which a dense carpet of peat mosses broken only by woody stems and small cranberries and round-leafed sundew. Through the walled in peatland ran trickling streams that connected into the muddled water of the Toark River, and in distance Rose saw a darker vegetation of trees running its length. Above them were huge swags of swirling gray clouds that besieged the blue of the sky, and the air was turning thick and chilly, presaging more rain. The sun was low in the sky, bleeding long streaks of dull lavender along the horizon. Rose thought of the presently silent Thorn and looked for him the distance of the darkening heavens. After a short moment she found a gleaming stain below the cloudcover and shaking her head, Rose gently instructed Eowyn forth, and they trotted quickly to Tornac's side, where they rode on in silence, too tired to talk.

The rain held off and they continued down the widening path, trailing past long green beards of river weed. They followed the Toark, which bent lazily away from the peatland and flooded along the side of the deteriorating wall. The followed the road even after night fall, guided by the light of the full moon, until the horse stumbled from wariness with their heads dropped. Then at last Ailis called then to a halt, and they made a cheerless camp with no fire, as it was far too damp for a fire, under an old willow.

Rose was so tired she had trouble going to sleep. She ached all over and her mind was humming like a harp string on the verge of breaking. She lay awake and looked into the sky. The moon was now vanishing under the shroud of dark clouds, and she could smell rain in the wind. That night Thorn did not arrive until the early grey hours of the morning.

For little over a week they traveled over the moors, following the course of the river toward Teirm, and when possible keeping off the road as close as possible to the trees. They saw no woodland animals of any kind, but heard prattling crickets and croaking frogs or the harsh cry of an eagle high above. They now traveled with haste, despite them puffing and tugging the mulish horses through the slowing bogs on foot. After the first day they were covered head to toe in the sticking mud, and Rose felt as if there were ants crawling over her skin, and she wondered how long this pointless struggle off road would continue.

On the third day a strange sultry warmth crept in and by midmorning they traveled without their jerkins. But the wind was content: pushing a blinding smudge of fog inland from the river, whistling ceaselessly through the reeds and trees. The endless greens and yellows began to fill Rose's mind with a stupor of boredom. She was troubled by an itching rash and the distance in which Thorn was forced to travel, distant from them and sleeping away in dingy tree sheltered valleys. The silence forced by miles apart grew oppressive each day, until Rose began to wonder if she could continue to bear it.

At night they camped without fire, huddling against the chill, which fell heavily as soon as the sun set, and they spoke quickly to each other forsaking practice in swordcraft as the ground was far too sticky and feeling that the loud clinging of swords would echo for miles, drawing villagers attention to them. On the third night in the moors, Ailis consented to Rose's entreaties for a fire. It was a laborious task on the damp ground as the wood wouldn't catch and whenever a feeble flame began to leap from the wood, the wind would blow it out. When the flame had died for the fourth time, Rose asked Ailis why she wouldn't use magic. Crossly she said, "I will not use magic at my whim, like a cheap magician doing tricks for children."

Rose subsided, puzzled, and at last Ailis got a fire going, and they had a hot meal for the first time since leaving Ludène. Ailis made an herb tea that warmed Rose down to her toes, and some of the itching left her skin.

"I still do not understand why we travel off road," said Rose. "Wouldn't one take notice of mud-spattered strangers struggling through the muck, instead of traveling on a well used roadway?"

"They might, if they knew what to look for. We travel far enough from the road so that few should notice us," Ailis said, sounding exhausted. She pointed in the direction of the shadowed over road that nestled into the side of the hill, some five miles away. "Traveling the road would make just as, if not more, noticeable. Unless I am off by my reckoning, by afternoon tomorrow we shall be forced to rejoin the road if we are to travel towards Teirm."

"Are we not going into Teirm?"

"No, I know of a farmer and his wife who shall be willing to house us for a few days. Afterwards, I will travel to Teirm and send a message south. Sleep now, Rose. We cannot go far if our eyes are not open," Ailis replied.

Nodding, Rose bid her good night stumbling into her bedroll and lay down, looking at the disheveled branches above her as they glowed in the in the moon light. With an obscure feeling of dread, Rose picked far in the distance a white point of light, a tiny but shining star, thinking that it would nice to sleep under a different roofing instead of that of only stars.


	18. Side Story 5

_______I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.  
Just a short character story. I needed a break from the main story line, and the endless traveling is starting to get to me...  
Well enjoy and have a Happy Easter._

* * *

_Shoes and Fables_

Her mother brightly smiled down at her and Selena smiled back. That day was one of those especially rare ones where her mother allowed Selena to assist her in the house. The day was blistering hot and even though it was stuffy the women gathered under the shading of the shingled roofing to hide from the burning sun, with content in their hearts. As the women labored over their needles and fabric, two men and a young boy labored stubbornly on the ground.

Despite the dampness of summer rain the ground was hard and dry, and it was an ill year on their farm. A small number of plants sprouted from the ground and the ones that did were crisp and brown, burnt from the roasting sun. The animals on the farm hid in the leaking shade of sparse trees, swatting at buzzing insects with their tails and chewing uselessly at tasteless sunburned grass.

Selena was only in her seventh year of life and her mother had only just begun to teach her how to stitch a week ago. Selena was quick to voice it to be an unexciting task that she would rather not know how to perform. Her mother quickly hushed her and began telling a tale of a mighty warrior who saved a young maiden from the prisons of a dark spirit. Selena had set aside her scrap of fabric and needle listening intently to the fable, dreaming of a time when she too could set out into the world. She would be a mighty warrior famed for the charm of her sword, Selena decided, and she would not be the troublesome maiden who constantly needed saving.

"That's a s-silly st-story, mama," Selena said when her mother finished the tale, twisting the dainty strings between her fingers.

"Silly?" her mother asked. "How is it silly, little duck?"

"Because if sh-she knew not to jump into that river and sh-she did anyhow, getting ca-caught by the evil sp-spirit Alkir, and if sh-she didn't sh-she would never be in trouble and in need of sa-saving. It's s-silly."

Her mother gave her a hard look. "If I recall correctly, you don't always do as you are told either."

Selena squirmed under her mother's steely gaze and looked down at her hands.

"Um, that's different," Selena said. "There's no evil sp-spirit in our river."

Her mother shook her head with a light laugh. "You know what I think?"

"No, but I know what I think."

"I think that it is you, who is the silly one," said she, tapping Selena's nose with her finger.

"No!" Selena exclaimed, wiggling away from her mother. Sliding off the wooden carved chair, Selena ran to the small trunk where her mother stored the sewing supplies, and once there she quickly opened the chest to toss the crumpled fabric inside. She banged the chest closed and turned to her mother, smiling happily. "Um, can I go outside, please, Mama?"

"It is 'May I go outside', Selena, and yes you may," Selena flashed her mother a happy smile and ran to the front door. "Hold on just a moment, silly girl."

Selena froze mid step. Stumbling, she turned around to face her mother, her face knotted in a pout. "Yes, mama?" she asked.

"You need shoes, Selena."

Selena pouted further, her bottom lip curling over her top lip. "But, I don't like sh-shoes."

"Put on your shoes," her mother told her.

Huffing, Selena resultantly walked away from the door to the corner they kept the shoes. She sat down and wiggled her toes freely in the air one last time, before encaging them the hardened leather. Once the shoes encased her feet wholly, Selena stood up and faced her mother, who was sitting quietly mending the leg on, Selena's older brother, Garrow's trousers. "May I go now?" she asked.

"Go on, but stay out of the woods. And, please, Selena, leave the men to work in peace." Her mother said, not looking up from her work.

Selena nodded happily and ran out the door, smiling widely as the golden sun kissed her face. Running past the dry fields, she waved mischievously to the red faced Garrow, who glared at her and said something to their father, and into the barn.

The shading of the barn relieved her little of the scorching sun's roast, and she wiped the small droplets of sticky sweat from her face. Breathing in deeply the stink of the barn, she walked to the rope ladder and placed one of her hands on the coarse cord. She heaved herself up the latter, losing her footing halfway up and she kicked at the ropes madly until she found gripping, then she lifted her body up to the storeroom.

The second story of the barn was a small vaulted space used for the storage of silage for the family's few farm animals. It had a large framed opening that Selena's father used to haul straw and grain up with a pulley system. Her father, Selena knew, took pride in his pulleys as him and his father were the ones to shape and fasten it on the barn before the old man died.

Selena jumped into the straw and waded through the itchy strands towards the porthole, her shoes breaking the thin reeds with a satisfying crushing noise. At the aperture, Selena leaned her head out, gripping firmly to the framing and glanced around at the farm; the browning greens, and the leaning building that was her father's cobbler hut, and the three figures of her father, uncle, and brother laboring under the sun's intense rays. Leaning back inside, she sighed happily before grabbing ahold of the knotted rope her father used for his pulley system. She looked down at the ground to check on the weighed litter, it was still piled with straw and a small sack of grain that her father put out that morning.

Selena tested the pulleys, leaning her body completely out of the hole but keeping her feet inside as she didn't wish to fall. When the pulley groaned from the burden she forced on it, and the rope moved downward, Selena straightened herself and stood back. Then she smiled wickedly, and jumped out of the opening to ground.

The pulley groaned unhappily as she sailed through the air to the ground below. Selena laughed and leaned her head back. For the moment she did not think of what her mother would say or of what her father would do to her as a punishment for this behavior, she was lost in pure delight of the wind tousling her hair and pulling the skirt of her dress flapped up around her thighs.


	19. Side Story 6

_________I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.  
This take place not long after Side Story 4 (Regal).  
Anyhow, enjoy,_

* * *

_Safe_

A young child, no more than six years of age, puzzled over a green inked word with her brows puckered and her bottom lip wedged between her teeth. She knew that the book was meant for those older than herself, but she wanted to try to read some the bigger words. _Co-sist-y-de… coe-sent-ied… coe-sea-ate-ade…_ No, those were no the correct sounds for the letters. Muirgheal shook her head and sighed unhappily. Why could she not remember the sounds that went with this word? Why must the word be so tricky? It wasn't fair for words to be so hard to sound out, and yet they were. Words were always hard for her to read, and she didn't like that.

Muirgheal sighed again, and looked up from the book. She truly wished she had not been forced outside and into the gardens when there were so many people about. People were not safe, and not safe was bad.

It was Cordelia's fault that she forced to be outside with so many unsafe people. Muirgheal had fought with Cordelia from the moment she told her where they were heading and what they were going to do. She had cried, and screamed, and even hit Cordelia. Hitting was a bad thing to do, Muirgheal knew this because Tornac told her so, but she did it anyhow because she did not want to go outside with unsafe strangers.

Strangers were not safe. Strangers were not safe like her father and his sky-monster were not safe; they were not safe like playing close to the window in her chambers were not safe; they were not safe like that mean knife man with all his bad talking was not safe; they were not safe like running in the hallways were not safe. And if something was not safe than it should be avoided, Cordelia had told her that, but then why did she bring Muirgheal outside with strangers? Did she think it was safe? If she did, she was silly to think so.

Muirgheal shifted in her seat, her bottom was starting to hurt and the dress Cordelia put her in was itching at her shoulders. She didn't like the dress either, it always itched her shoulders and it was yellow. Yellow was an ugly color.

A bony hand touched her shoulder, causing Muirgheal to start and look up into Cordelia's flat grey eyes. Cordelia's thin lips turned upwards into a soft smile. When she smiled, Muirgheal thought, she looked less old and sad, and Cordelia always looks old and sad. "Go play, Muirgheal," the child flinched when Cordelia called her by her name. Being called that name was never safe. "I believe they are about to begin a game of Jingling. Would you not like to play Jingling with the other children?"

Muirgheal shook her head. No, she would not like play Jingling with the other children.

"Muirgheal," said Cordelia losing her smile to her usual scowl, "you are not here to read, you are outside to play."

"I want to read," Muirgheal said softly, looking down.

"You will have time to read later. Now hand me the book, Muirgheal."

Frowning, Muirgheal turned her head and looked at Cordelia out of the corner of her eyes and bit her lip. She highly doubted Cordelia would give her the book back, and Muirgheal really wanted to figure out that word.

"I do not want to," said Muirgheal.

"Whether you wish to or not, you are going to play. Now hand me the book, Muirgheal." Cordelia said, pulling Muirgheal off the wooden bench by her arms. Huffing with displeasure, Muirgheal gave Cordelia the book and looked down. She really did not want to play with the children, it was not safe. "There's a good girl. Now, off you go."

Cordelia gave the child a light push forward, and Muirgheal stumbled forward looking back at the woman uncertainly. Waving Muirgheal on, Cordelia turn away and said something to a petite woman with so much powder on her face and paint on her lips that she resembled a goose. Smiling at the thought of a goose-woman, Muirgheal creep forward and looked at the group of giggling girls.

She counted the girls and found that there were five of them, all of them were either smiling or laughing. They didn't look unsafe, but Muirgheal wasn't confident that they _were_ safe.

As she approached a girl with black curls tied back with pale green ribbons looked up at her, and a scowl distorted her chipmunk like face. Muirgheal knew who she was because she had meet her three days ago, Tristana had a big purple welt on her arm to prove this. Tristana scowled deeply at her, and Muirgheal frowned back. Now she knew that these girls were not safe.

A girl that looked like the older sister of Tristana, whispered something into Tristana's ear and pointed in Muirgheal's direction, and Muirgheal froze as the older sister nodded at a now very cross looking Tristana. Muirgheal watched unmoving as Tristana crossed her arms across her chest and walked toward her, when Tristana was a yard away she stopped walking and looked Muirgheal in the eyes.

"Hello, Muirgheal," she said, but she did not sound happy to see Muirgheal at all. "I am sorry for the mean words I said, will you forgive me?"

Muirgheal blinked at her and looked down for a moment before looking back up at Tristana's dark eyes. "I suppose, yes," she paused, remembering that she ought to apologize as well. "I am sorry for hitting you."

Tristana's eyes brighten making her look a lot less mean and she held out her hand to Muirgheal. "You want to play with us?" she asked, "We're playing Jingling and need someone to be the Jinglier. Do you want to be the Jinglier?"

Studying her for a short moment, Muirgheal nodded in reply, deciding that maybe playing Jingling was safe as long as Cordelia was there to watch. Tristana smiled at her and when Muirgheal smile shyly back, she grasped Muirgheal's hand. This caused Muirgheal to jump back and yank her hand from Tristana's grip. Tristana glance at her and opened her mouth to speak, but seeming to think better of it she closed her mouth and singled Muirgheal to come instead.

When they walked to the grouping of girls together, the other girls looked up and greeted them. "Ysbail," Tristana said to the girl that looked like her, "Muirgheal says she will be the Jinglier."

"Did you?" asked Ysbail, turning to Muirgheal. Muirgheal nodded. "That's good because no one was wanting to be the Jinglier, and you can't play Jingling without a Jinglier. Oh, I'm called Ysbail and you know my sister Tristana."

"That she does," Tristana said, rubbing her arm. "Idelle, could you get the bells, I don't remember were we put them."

A small girl with wavy hair the color of wheat, smiled toothily at her. "I get, I get," she said merrily, running off to the edge of a stone fountain. When Idelle returned she was carrying a looped ribbon with many shining bells tied to it, which she handed to Muirgheal, before giggling excitedly and hopping sideways on both her feet. Smiling at Idelle, Muirgheal felt the smoothness of the brass bells before placing the silky ribbon around her neck.

"You know how to play Jingling?" A girl, with waist length carroty colored hair, asked.

Muirgheal bit her bottom lip nervously. She had never played Jingling before, but she has seen other children play the game and she thought knew how to play it. "I think I do," she said quickly.

Tristana opened her mouth to say something, but she was interrupted by her sister. "It is easy, don't let us catch you," Ysbail explained.

"And keep the bells on, so we can hear you," the last girl said, she was holding colored sashes and as she spoke she began to hand them out.

Muirgheal nodded and watched as the girls cover their eyes with the sashes, and Idelle who needed help turned to her.

"P'ease?" she asked holding up the blue sash. Muirgheal nodded in understanding and warily placed the sash over her eyes and tied it in a handsome bow, like Cordelia had taught her to, behind her head. When she was done, Muirgheal stepped back, the bells dinging loudly around her neck, and watched at Idelle nodded. "'sank you," Idelle said.

When all the girls were equally blindfolded, they began the game. In that one happy afternoon while they played a game of Jingling all worries of what was safe and what was not was forgotten as Muirgheal ran and jumped and played, until the dinner bell rang over the gardens and the children bid each other farewell.

* * *

_A/N: The word Muirgheal/Rose was trying to read was "cosseted".  
Jingling was a game played in the Middle Ages: where all the player are blindfolded except for 'It' or in this case the 'jinglier'. 'It' is given a string of bells and the players must try to catch him or her. The person who catches 'It' is 'It' for the next game._


	20. Side Story 7

___________I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.  
So I'm _procrastinating on finishing the next chapter.  
I've had this half written for over two weeks and I've been dying to finish it but not knowing how until today, so I'm really happy about finishing this. And I had way too much fun writing this.  
As always, enjoy,

* * *

_Red Apple_

The air pressed down around the vast gardens, of the silver colored stone walled of the estate that towered leniently over the fields, like a damp blanket. There wasn't a faint whisper of a breeze; the leaves in the gardens hung utterly still. As if to make for the winds inaction, the birds were louder than Tornac ever heard them before. He was perched halfway up an ancient apple tree on a broad branch that divided to make a comfortable seat.

A drop of sweat slowly trickled down his temple, and he wiped it away reaching for another ruby apple. Sinking his teeth into crisp fruit, he leaned back against the trunk and let the sweet flesh dissolve on his tongue. These apples were certainly the high point of the day. Not, he thought disdainfully, that it had been much of a day. He should have been inside the library locked away in a small room lined with leather-bound books, concentrating on some boring lecture from his mentor, Ceithin. Instead he had had a furious argument about something he could not recall and had run off.

He didn't remember running about the halls of his grandfather's estate, only that he had been determined to get away, until he found himself outside and he spotted a seductive glint of red fruit behind a barricade of achimenes and violets. He scanned the area swiftly for any inhabitants, before making a dash to the bench, which rested below the knobby branches in the center of the patch, and hopped onto its bench, reaching for a thick winding branch. He holstered himself up on the low branch and kicked at the bark for a knob to place his foot on, scratching his boots, and after finding a feeble bulge he pulled himself on to the branch, breathing hard. Then he stood, embracing the trunk lightly for balance, and charily reached a hand out and grasped a bough that reached just above his waist and climbed onto it. He scaled halfway up the tree, and unwilling to go any farther or scale back down, he sat and began to plunder the tree of its fruit. After he had his fill he stared idly through the leaves at the blue of the sky, which paled almost to white at the apex.

When he came aware of that someone was watching him, he wiped the sticky juices carefully on his trousers and glanced down through the leaves, he saw a pair of very pale blue eyes staring up at him, and he nearly toppled out of the tree. Straitening himself, Tornac nearly laughed at his own jumpiness, after all it was only Tipper.

"Hail, Lady Tipper, what brings you out here to this vista on a day as fine as this?" he called down.

"Oh, pipe down, Tornac," his sister said. "We both know why I'm out here. 'To this vista,' what is that suppose to mean?"

"I don't know, but I heard Father say it once."

"You really ought to stop repeating every word Father says."

"There are times when Father says some very wise things," Tornac argued.

"Yes," said Tipper, spinning a strand of pale blond around her finger tips. "When he tells you to keep your mouth shut and to open your ears, those are his wisest words to this date."

Tornac glared down at her through the leaves, and noted with satisfaction that one of the leaves blocked her blabbering mouth from his sight. "Go away, Tipper."

"No."

"Go away," he repeated.

"I will not," Tipper said, "and you cannot make me."

Tornac huffed in exasperation, because he knew that he could not make Tipper do anything she didn't wish to do. "Please, Tipper," he tried.

"If I go, I'll tell Grandfather where you are."

"I'll give you an apple."

"A whole apple just for me?" Tipper asked elatedly, fluttering her eyelashes up at him. "Oh, how so very generous of you, O' brother of mine."

Tornac narrowed his eyes at her mockery. "Stay if you must," he said, knowing now for certain that she would go until she saw fit, "but don't bother me."

"How am I going to bother you? You're just sitting up there gorging yourself on apples," said Tipper as she sat onto the stone bench. "I, for one, will quite surprised if there's a fruit lift shining in that tree by the time you done up there."

Tornac scowled and didn't answer, perhaps if he stayed quiet so would she.

He did not mind his sister, not truly, if anything he rather enjoyed her presence when she was not being bothersome and causing raucous. He learned to accept her attitude and cheek long ago, after all Tipper's words were better than his older brother's scorn and insolence. Many things were preferred over associating with Garnock, Tornac strongly believed, like suffering a slow and painful death by impalement or, perhaps, being eaten by a bear.

"Would you like to know what I think?" asked Tipper after a long moment of silence.

Tornac leaned against the trunk of tree, wishing that the bark would split apart to shallow him. "No."

"I think," Tipper continued as if he said nothing at all, "that you, older brother, are a coward."

"A what?!" he squealed in expiration, leaning forward from the tree to look down at Tipper's head. The bright sun glared off her pale hair, blinding him.

"A coward, you know, someone who lacks the courage to confront a tribulation."

"I do not lack courage!" he exclaimed.

Tipper glanced up at him with a skeptical expression. "You are hiding from an old man who can barely walk, Tornac, if that's not cowardly I don't know what is."

Tornac fidgeted in the tree wondering how his grandfather would punish him for his latest escapade. Would Grandfather flog him with a willow switch? Tornac uneasily considered the possibility: in his mind it seemed quite likely, he had done so before.

Picking a faultless red fruit from the tree, he said, "I am not hiding from Grandfather, I simply need time to think."

"In other words; you're hiding from your own grandfather," said Tipper mischievously. "The shame you have brought onto our family's name! Now we shall have to walk the streets with cowls covering our faces! Oh, brother, how could you? The shame is killing me! I'm dying because of you, Tornac! Isn't there any final words you have to have to say to your sister?"

"Go away, Tipper," Tornac said annoyed with her performance.

"'Go away, Tipper'," she repeated with a shake of her head. "I'm dying all you have to say is 'go away'." She stood up at stared into the leaves. "Farewell, dearest brother, I shall see you when you too pass into the Void."

Tornac threw the apple at her in answer.

Tipper, who saw the apple spinning towards her, danced out of the way and maturely stuck her tongue out at Tornac. "How very adult of you, Tornac," she said picking up the red apple and taking a bite out of it. The fair juices ran down her chin and she wiped them away with her sleeve.

Tornac watched his younger sister as she strode away, tripping gracelessly over the long skirts of her red dress, before jumping down from the tree and chasing after her, he doubled back to grab another apple and raced past her. When he passed Tipper, she dropped the apple onto the ground and pursued after him and straight into the estate, Tornac was scarcely in the lead. He was, after all, his father's son and his father was no coward.

* * *

_A/N_: _I hoped I made it clear that Tipper is a big tomboy- in a family of swordmen I couldn't imagine that she would be a softspoken girl who likes to play with her dolls or to learn how to cook grand meals. Her and Tornac are closer to age, a year so apart- Tipper being the youngest, Tornac the middle child, and their older brother is several year older than the both of them. With Tipper being the only child around Tornac, this would force them into a healthy sibling relationship. 'Tipper' is a nickname Tornac gave to her when they were much younger (this is not like what Rose did to her name, she chose and insisted on being called 'Rose' instead of 'Muirgheal', where Tipper's nickname was given to her because of her own blunders). Tornac's parents aren't around as much, traveling around and whatsnot, so the main parental figure is his grandfather. Just thought I'd give you all some useless family background info._


	21. Chapter 14

___I do not own the Inheritance Cycle._  
Hope you enjoy,

* * *

**A Haven**

Late the next day, they passed Teirm and that night was spent in the town of Arundel inside an evil-smelling inn, where they scrubbed their bodies clean of filth, and planned to head off for the farmer's house early the next day. Ailis told Rose and Tornac that the farmers' lived in an isolated dell that was a relatively simple ride from Arundel past a deep winding valley known as the Serpent's Vale, and to Rose's relief, they would be proceeding on the road, taking at most four days. From there it a short day's ride to the farmers' home where they would stay for a few weeks of rest, and in that time they would arrange their transportation south to The Varden.

Snuggling into the lumpy pallet, Rose mused abstractedly on some of the things she had seen and heard in the past few weeks. None of her thoughts led anywhere, and she let them drift through her mind, one after another, as unformed images: Teirm standing tall and white out of the fields; Tornac still and silent, astride Shadowless; Thorn gliding through the air, his scales gleaming in the sun like fat rubies; the minstrels playing in the marketplace of Cartama; Ailis' calm face, contorted madly with magic; glowing wisps of the fire; the bodies of the died men, laying limply on the ground as they rode away; a tiny black bird with a red crest on its belly…But that was her last conscious thought before she drifted into a dreamless sleep.

Rose woke before dawn. A cock was crowing somewhere in the distance, but that wasn't what woke her; she itched terribly all over. Scratching furiously, she sat up, and Ailis stirred sleepily and then woke instantly. "What's the matter?" she said.

"Bedbugs," Rose hissed, "or fleas, but I'm thinking they're bedbugs. It hardly matters, these _things_ are biting me."

"Probably bedbugs," said Ailis. She slid off the bed and stretched before stepping around Tornac, who was fast asleep on the middle of the floor of the little room, the room had only two beds, and Ailis and Rose were occupying them both.

Ailis told her to put on the dress, so Rose dragged it out of the pack where it had lain since they had left Ludène. Her skin prickled as she put it on, feeling its coarse fabric scratch across her skin, and she fumbled with the buttons in the back, unused to having to reach behind her in such a way. Then when Ailis had dressed as well, they woke Tornac and packed their packs and left the room.

Downstairs the only sign of life was the black browed cook in the kitchen, who was firing up the stove. He declined to serve them breakfast, so they left the inn, walking out into the sultry morning air. They unstabled their horses and found a bakery farther down the street, where Ailis bought three loafs of bread and some meat pastries. They ate the pastries on horseback as they trotted out of Arundel. The gate was just opened, and two grimy guards looked at them suspiciously as they left. Tornac gave them a cheery wave, to the guards' evident displeasure, and then trotted briskly down the dirt road by which they had approached the town. In little under a half of mile the road split into two, one made of stone and the other remained dusty, and Ailis lead them northward on the dirt road through the fog slithered wide vales of Teirm. That day they rode steadily until well after dusk.

If Rose were not seeing everything through a blur of wariness, she might have enjoyed the ride. The weather was fine, but felt far too hot after being harassed by winter's tempests, the sky was an unfathomable clear blue. Above them Rose could sometimes hear the faint twittering of a sky borne lark drifting high on the thermals.

The road pushed steadily downhill, winding past meadows of rich green grasses growing in wide terraces divided by silver streams or lines of trees laden with hanging mosses. Around them stretched a peaceful and fertile landscape slumbering in a haze of heat. In the distance there were white faced herds of cattle or wooly sheep grazed there or perhaps horses, flickering their tails in the wind, basking in the sun at the edge of shadowing trees. Never far from the herds were houses made of stone, edged with overflowing gardens, set in the hills overlooking the vale. Sometimes they passed small hedged fields green with heads of arugula, spinach, collards or kale, or lines of broccoli, cabbage, and cauliflower, or the cheerful pinks and whites of flowering peas. They saw many people: farmers with carts, or children skipping or intent on some errand, women with whickered baskets, and once a shepherd with his dog chasing bleating sheep away from the road.

When they reached the straight road through the Serpent's Vale, on the morning of the forth day, the bustle of human life stopped quite suddenly. In the moment that they reached entered the vale Rose felt a long absent presence mend together with her mind, and filching as she opened her mind to a vast emptiness, Rose reached out to Thorn's intelligence with her own and wordlessly greeted him.

The landscape they rode on was lonely and bare, swept by strong winds blowing down off the distant mountains, which were humped blue on the eastern horizon. No trees grew there, apart from stunted thorns, and every now and then they passed tumbling grey weathered granite blotched with bright linens, purple and yellow and green and white. There were also other stones, which seemed to have been placed there by human hands: circles on top of hills that looked like massive broken crowns, some thrown over and some broken, some still upright but leaning like drunken men.

"These were here before humans migrated here from the sea, and date from the earliest days that Elves walked this land," said Ailis. "None know what they signified; even in the days before the Riders they were ancient and abandoned. It is said that they were set here by the Grey Folk who lived many of thousands of years ago. Some think that they mark tombs of their kings and queens, and some think these are places where they worshipped their gods, if they had any. Some of them have curious carvings."

"What do you think?" asked Rose after a long moment of silent riding.

"That the knowledge has been lost to the ages," Ailis said.

When midway came, the wind shifted. The clear weather seemed to be turning and a chill blew in from the westward ocean, bringing clouds hurrying into the sky. Tornac halted them so that he could get his cloak, and Rose unpacked her own cloak as well, and wrapped it around him.

A couple of hours later it began to drizzle. Then with a deafening clap of thunder echoed throughout the valley, a heavy, driving deluge soaked them almost instantly, but before long the rain came to a sudden halt and the sky gradually began to clear of clouds, and as the day heated up and intense dampness blanketed the air making each movement a hard labor.

A little while after the rain stopped, they breaked close to a flowing stream hidden from the path by a line of tipping stones. As Ailis had bought out some fresh bread from within her pack, and as she broke it into threes, Thorn landed stridently down from the sky. Ailis looked up from the bread and watched as Rose bounced off of Eowyn's back and ran to the dragon's side. They stood together: the ruby stunted dragon and his young Rider, brought together by a destiny that was impossible to guess. Although Rose had disregarded and even forsaken the dragon in the beginning, a wordless understanding had quickly arisen between them that had formed into a fast camaraderie. It wasn't only that they had been forced together in a relationship as a Dragon and Rider, nor was it simply the marking of two very different minds and hearts mending.

Their kinship reinforced Rose's youth; as they stood together talking silently, as they always did, it was clear that the child had not altogether left her face. Looking at their forms, a sadness seemed to gather in Ailis' eyes and her face became tender and abstracted, as if she saw simultaneously some other vision now far off, or gone forever: a memory of her vanished child perhaps, a sadness of losing the ability to witness her mature into a young woman.

In the waning hours of dusk, Ailis led them out of the Serpent's Vale and down a broken, narrow path that vanished quickly into a small, hidden woodland. Their way twisted and turned, heading steadily upward in a gentle incline. Long woody vines laden with purple spiraling wisterias hung above them, stirring in a slight wind. All Rose could see were leaves, veil after veil of leaves in new spring's green. The trees and bushes were still dripping, from the afternoon rain, and the earth was exhaling a damp, rich smell of rotting vegetation.

A little farther on they found a deep pool of green water that bordered on one side by flat, brown rocks and on the other by a narrow shore of sand. It appeared as if it were designed for bathing.

Ailis called them to a stop and Rose sent for Thorn, he was sailing high in the sky restlessly looking for prey, and then they dismounted from their horses and made camp on the sand. When camp was made and a fire glowed healthily in the night, Tornac walked to the stone ledge and stripped himself from his heavy outer clothing, leaving on his shirt and trousers, and dived into the pool. He swam around a moment and then floated his way close towards the sandy shore.

"Do the grand ladies wish to join me?" asked Tornac, shaking visibly in the water.

Rose sat up straighter and peered into the water nervously. "It looks very cold," she said.

"It is," Tornac said.

"Then by all means, enjoy yourself," Rose said turning away and looking into the fire.

It would an inexpressible relief to wash off the mud and sweat from the previous days, thought Rose sadly, watching as Ailis, too, unclothed to her underdressings and dived into the chilled water.

_If you wish to be clean, _said Thorn, _then why won't you wash?_

_It's inappropriate, Thorn,_ Rose said. _I am not undressing in a male's presence._

Thorn sent her a tendril of his amusement. _You have undressed in front of me._

_That's different, _said Rose, rubbing her hand together._ Besides, that was long before I knew you were quite this annoying._

_If you do not wish to undress in front your friend then perhaps you should ask him to turn away until you get into the water, so that you too can swim, _Thorn said, shifting his wings so to glide in the wind.

_I can't._

_Why, _Thorn asked. _Why can you not ask him?_

_I cannot inquire for him to turn away, Thorn, _said Rose.

_Cannot or will not?_

_I cannot, _Rose said, _besides I have no desire to swim._

Thorn sent her his disbelief and said, _You cannot lie to me._

_Thorn, _said Rose shifting uneasily on the ground, _the water is deep and_ _I do not know how to swim, that is why._

Thorn was silent for a short moment as he dived toward the ground. Feeling his nearness to her, Rose looked up and watched as he glided from the darkened sky, landing close by in the sand. Folding his wings, Thorn snaked his head towards her and looked at her with one of his red eyes. _Thank you, _he said, _for telling me._

Rose quickly turned away and idly watched Tornac and Ailis play in the water, they reminded her of children foolishly splashing about. Occasionally a glowing firefly flew enchantingly across her field of vision, but otherwise all was still: a low hum of insect life filled the air in soporific music. Before long Tornac and Ailis emerged from the water, shivering violently, with stained blue lips and fingers, but by that time Rose had fallen asleep.

They were up well before light the next day, and ate a light breakfast of the tasteless bread and tough dried meat, listening to the sounds of birds arguing in the trees. Silently, as they had yet to fully awakened, they packed away camp and mounted their steeds. They urged the horses to a canter, and so they continued for a couple of hours as the sun rose into the sky staining the a pale grey with tings of a pale amber and ginger. Rose saw that the mountains was running closer on either side of them beyond the shrouding of trees, Ailis steered them away from the peaking mountains and off the track, so that they were forced to walk and battle their way through tingles of undergrowth.

As the woodland began to wane, and the golden rays of sun darted through the holes between leaves, Rose began to notice subtle notches in the bark of many of the trees that they passed. It seemed to her, that Ailis was following the marks in a form of guidance.

"We'll be well out of here and under a solid roofing by lunchtime, I think," Ailis said. "Not far ahead of us is a rock face with a good number of caves. It might be best for Thorn to locate one of these, so that he can stay there. I'd rather he didn't wander into these woods alone, there could be fugitives or Urgals."

"Are we not fugitives?" asked Rose. She looked involuntarily behind her into the woods, but saw nothing but the colors of blooming foliage.

"Not in the way I'm speaking of," Ailis said.

"Ailis, I hold no doubt," said Tornac in a low voice, "nevertheless, it's well to be wary, and if there are Urgals about, what makes you think that we shall not cross their path?"

Ailis looked back at them, and patted Lanorgrim's golden flank. "Nothing," she said grimly, "I only pray that we are lucky enough not to."

Rose bit her bottom lip uneasily and contacted Thorn, telling him what Ailis had said.

_I will seek for this cliff, _Thorn told her, _but only after I search ahead for any of these dangers Ailis has spoken of.  
_Thorn reported back to her, not long after, that he found no dangers he could see, and that he found the overhang and a very comfortable cave overlooking a small marsh. _The cliff, _he said, _is sheer enough so that no person, or Urgal, would be able to climb it._

_It is good news that you will safe at night,_ Rose said.

_From all dangers, save for, the creatures that look like leathery winged rats._

Rose laughed nervously, imagining a pair of glowing red eyes. _You mean bats? _she asked. _I envy you if that is your greatest danger._

Grumbling in his mind, Thorn changed the subject to his hunting options, as the marshland was new to him, and he was eager to discover what creatures lay within its realm. For a long hour, Rose listened as Thorn remarked animatedly on the bulk of deer he already seen and to his delight a large creature that resembled a weasel.

The wood ended messily, gradually thinning out until the trees vanished altogether, and soon, Rose looked over a meadow full of wildflowers, with grass that stood almost as high as her knees, that lay before them in astonishment. Ailis had wandered ahead of her with Tornac following not far behind, who was glancing dreamily about the fields. Reaching a high hedge, Ailis unlocked a gate that passed into an orchard of apple trees, lightly burdened with pink-and-white blossoms. Petals littered the ground like snow, and among the white-starred grasses nodded daffodils and bluebells and crocuses of many colors. She shook herself and frowning, she walked dreamily through the valley and into the blooming orchard, and continued over a path of raked white gravel towards a beautiful house. It was a long, double storied building of yellow stone, with wide windows that shone in the sunshine.

After securing the horses to a post, they stopped in front of the house and turned in to the pouch. Rose was blinded in the sudden shade, and Ailis led her blinking through two low bronze eaves into a huge atrium flagged with marble. Spring flowers of all kinds, nasturtiums and daisies and bluebells, were planted in big glazed pots, giving off a delicious perfume. In the center, in the middle of a close-leafed lawn of chamomile, a small bronze pig stood on a stone plinth, water pouring from its month into a little pool in which Rose could see the silver and orange glint of fish turning slowly beneath lily pads. Rose relaxed slightly in the coolness and looked around. The atrium seemed to be deserted.

Ailis pulled a small brass lever in the wall, which Rose guessed to be attached to a bell, and then sat down on a wooden bench and stretched out her legs.

"Sit down," she said. "Someone will come in a moment."

"I thought you said they were farmers," said Tornac. He sat down next to Ailis, and leaned forward, looking quite content to do nothing for a moment. Rose could hardly blame him, and she felt again how tired and grimy she was, and how much she longed to wear clean clothes and to sleep in a proper bed. She looked over the grand atrium once more, and thought, as Tornac had said, that this place did not appear to an abode for someone as simple as a farmer.

"Padern and his wife are," Ailis said. "I thought the same thing as you when I first came to this place. I've learned in time, that their fortune is as old as their blood, and as deep as their compassion."

Rose nodded absentmindedly and turned to look at the fountain. The sunlight struck off the droplets in little prisms, and its murmurous music sank into hypnotically, as if it were a song of which she almost understood the words. She didn't notice the woman who stepped out of the house until she was only a few paces away.

Ailis stood up, extending her hand in greeting. "Voirrey," she said. "Greetings."

"Ailis?" she said. "Is that you?"

The woman in front of them was strikingly beautiful, with vivid hazel eyes and olive skin, her grey dress fell softly around her trim form, shimmering like a waterfall. Her dark hair was piled up on her head and held in place with with silver combs, and she wore no jewelry except long silver earrings.

"The same," said Ailis. "How good it is to see you!"

The woman smiled humorlessly at Ailis. "And good to see you, my dear friend. I've missed you. But it has been long since your path has led this way," Voirrey said.

"Far too long," said Ailis.

"What has brought you to this part of the world?" Voirrey asked. Then with a shake of her head, "But that can wait. You are probably in no humor to answer my questions. Please let's get out this heat before we talk. Come." The woman led them across the courtyard toward some stables. "We must attend to the beasts, first."

In the cooling shade of the sables, they said nothing more as they hastily unsaddled and groomed the horses, leaving them comfortably housed, snorting at a full manger. Then Voirrey led them across the courtyard and through the high doors into a wide hallway. It was made of plain stone and dimly lit by a silver lamp suspended from the roof, but it gave the impression of richness, there were gold hangings of heavy brocade on the walls, and Rose saw that many rooms ran off it. Some doors were open, and their spilled into the stone floor, and far off she heard the voices of children. They put their cloaks in the hallway, they were all sticky with sweat.

"Well!" said Voirrey, surveying the group. "Who are these two?"

"They're Tornac and Rose." Rose bowed her head, and Voirrey, bowing her in return, gave her a swift piecing glace, but made no comment. "Tornac, Rose, this is Voirrey. An old, and dear friend of mine."

"You and your friends are always welcome here," Voirrey said. "My husband will no doubt wish for you to join us for dinner, he is occupied at the moment. In the meantime I will arrange rooms and, I except you want to refresh yourself and rest."

So almost as quickly as she desired, Rose found herself in a grace room with cool stone walls adorned with plain blue hangings. A thick pale carpet warmed the stone floor. And a curtained bed, draped with a embroidered aubergine mantle, was let into the wall. One side of the room held wide windows with white shutters both inside and out, these overlooked a reedy pond and in the far distance the purple hued peaks of the mountains of The Spine could be seen. By the windows was a cushioned window seat, on which a rich crimson dress and underclothes were laid out for her. The was no fire crackling in the grate.

Rose picked up the clothing and earnestly requested to be shown to the bathing room. The chatty maid whom Voirrey had assigned to show her around finally left her to her own devices. The bathroom was especially pleasant: it had many potted trees lining the walls that were painted a cool blue, the bathroom itself was tiled with a mosaic of dolphins and other sea creatures. Rose drew herself a cool bath, pouring generous amounts of oil into the water, and lowered herself in with a feeling of bliss. For a while she simply allowed herself to relax, emptying her mind of everything except the sheer pleasure of the freshening water.


	22. Side Story 8

___________I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.  
First I want to apologize for the state the last chapter was written in, I didn't think that when switching from one version on Word Doc to another that it might change words around, so my bad. Also this update is a short story, can't say I'm sorry about that. The next chapter will be up at some point but I had to travel south due to my grandfather's this. If you can spare a moment tell me what you think,_

* * *

_Cyclic_

His whistling was truly beginning to bother Ailis, it was not the shrill, piercing sound of the whistling itself but the fact that it held no tune.

Ailis glared into the shining ripples of the water, thinking as she always did when she narrowed her eyes in this way, of her mother. Her mother was a stern, yet, loving woman who had died when she was a young age. It was her mother who had always told her in that calm voice she possessed; "Don't squint," her mother would say, "shade your eyes with you palm, you don't want to gain wrinkles." Ailis scoffed at her mind's echo, gaining wrinkles was not a concern to her.

She pushed the paddle further into the water and drew it out.

Her concerns, Ailis did not wish to think about but always when the thought was in her mind it bubbled and grew until she had to work them out. In her desperation, she had been drawn into the lowly depths of praying to unnamed gods, and to the air and its winds that drew across the lands in hopes to change what was. She had hoped, and lost many hours of sleep due because of her fears and desires. Her fears, oh, how she had gained so many fears over the years.

To distract herself she forced the paddle into the water and drew it back, the pole was slick with water and spun around in the breeze. Heaving the wooden paddle out of the stream, the light breeze that blew caused small droplets of water to splash onto her clothing.

Ailis had been forced to hide away all these years, it was no choice to her. The last three years, she had been hiding from the Empire which forced her to stay hidden among the people within The Varden's stronghold. It was not a stronghold, really, but more of hideaway, as the people of The Varden theirselves were in hiding. Within the hiding strong of the Varden people, and the Empire's spies that walked among the, it was the fear of her discovery was one of her greatest fears, that and what would become of her and the family she left behind.

She placed the paddle across her lap, allowing her aching hands and arms to rest as the slow flow of the stream carried her boatcraft forward. Rubbing her face with her damp hands she glanced behind her. As she looked behind her, at the broad face of her traveling partner, the craft rocked unsteadily beneath her from the slight weight shift.

The boatcraft was a long, narrow craft shaped with a light flexible frameworking, which was covered with a sturdy waterproof animal skin. A sturdy wooden plate sat in the center of the craft allowing a person to sit comfortably. A long wooden paddle that ended in a scoop on either side pushed the boat forward. Ailis had been told that the people of the north called this boatcraft a Qajaq, or the hunting boat in their tongue.

"S'mething 'h m'tter, 'ilis," asked Herb, from behind her on the Qajaq that was trailing through the calm waters.

Ailis looked forward, and picked back up the paddle and pushed it into the water, and heaved it back. "Nay, Herb," she said.

"D'n't s'und like n'thing to me, it d'n't," replied Herb.

"I would not worry about it."

"P'll 'shore, 'ilis," called Herb.

Pushing the paddle into the water with a little more force than necessary, Ailis frowned looking at the high grass walled shores and continued on.

"'ilis!" Herb shouted after a short moment of silent paddling.

"What is it, Herb?"

"I say t' p'll 'shore," he said.

Ailis looked uneasily the shoreline. "When I see a decent shoreline I will, but I am not, by any means, docking in that grass."

"Sc'red of s'mething, 'ilis?"

_Yes,_ Ailis thought, _I'm frightened of many things, and I don't fancy our chances of seeing those huge snakes that run about around here._ "It is not wise to rest in the tall grasses, Herb," said Ailis.

"'s y'u say, 'ilis," said Herb, dipping his paddle into the water.

Ailis frowned and continued on, wishing to lose her thoughts in the simple rhythms of her paddling. She leaned her head forward to watch where she placing the paddle. She breathed in the spring air, it was fresh and crisp, and her nose itched due to the heavy smell of flowering trees and their pollen.

Before she had come The Varden, Ailis would have invented some way to keep the pollen from bothering her senses. She would have now, as well, if it were not for the pact she made with herself, not in the Ancient Language, oh, no, she could not do such a thing to herself. She knew then when she was making her vow that she took far too much joy in the power that the Ancient Language gave her, and because of this, she had no desire to simply give it up. After all, what could she possibly gain from forsaking magic? Instead of allowing herself to never use the powerful tongue, Ailis decided to only use it when necessary.

While in Farthen Dûr, she seen a number of Dwarf magicians who took on the belief that the use of magic came from their gods, and the gods gave them a limit or what they called a Balance. The belief seemed rather puerile to Ailis, but the idea of setting a balance in how she used the Ancient Language was not, and so she took up as few of the Dwarves did a sort of limitation as to when she would use magic.

Her reasonings for this action were not known to any except for herself, even her beloved, if he still remained loving her, did not know of her reason. It was fear, Ailis knew, fear of herself, of what she has done, of the deeds she has committed, of the child's death: her child's death, but most of all, it was the fear of her losing herself to the horrid creature she once was; these were her reason to give up her free use of magic. Ailis did not regret her choice, she could not because the use of magic was her own undoing, and because of it she had lost so much and gained so little.

The sharp sound of a crane taking off startled her away from her thoughts. She pushed the paddled into the dark inky water and drew it back.

_No,_ she thought, _my husband was my undoing without him, I would still be home probably milking some cow with a man I know nothing of and a house full of needy children, that I do not want._

In many ways Ailis was glad, she had met the man she had married, though he gave her little and used her as he fit, he gave her something her birthplace could not. For a time he gave her a family when her own was ripped apart, he gave her a child to love, and later when he left for half a year, he gave her a chance to find love. Alas, the happiness was only for a short time. He found out, she knew, and he ripped her happiness apart. First by twistedly killing the child they created together; her baby who she only just beginning to know, who she loved with her life. He could have stop there, but her husband did not, he then by going after the man she loved but he never got to slay that man, because the man she truly loved killed her husband first. Ailis and her beloved had never gotten the chance to live together, because soon after they arrived at The Varden together Ailis had sent her beloved away.

Ailis had not allowed herself time grieve after arriving to Farthen Dûr, keeping her mind and body busy. Work had always been the best way to clear her thoughts and keep her mind in order, and to Ailis it was the only way to move forward from the black place her mind dwelled in. Even after the years and many hours of work, her mind was still in a dark place.

Perhaps taking on this mission was not a wise idea, it gave her far too much time to reflect on the past, and the cycle the life has turned into to.


	23. Side Story 9

_____________I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.  
I hope you enjoy this short story,_

* * *

_Blueberries_

For almost as long as Rose could remember, Tornac had been balm to the pall that resided inside the shaded walls of Urû'baen. A lively and good-natured man, he would continuously find ways to keep both her mind and body on the move, never once allowing her sulk in books as she preferred. The activities he arranged to keep her day busy Rose thought to be anguishing and inapt. In the recent year he had discovered a torment greater than any before, in form of a lowly stringed instrument, and she could not for the life of her understand Tornac's motivations in her learning how to play the useless thing. But the viol and the frustration it caused her, hardly had anything to do with that day.

The first day of summer, on the ninth year of her life, began like every other day, with the distant iron clinging of a bell of the dawn bell wrenching her from her sleep. Dumping her on the edge of consciousness, her dreams sinking into the darkness as if they had never been.

Yawning, she staggered out of her bed to a nearby chair, the skin on her feet wincing at the cold flooring. She scratched at the sleeves of her nightgown, disliking the lace emboldening and how the treading cut into her wrists. Not a moment after she sat down, Cordelia whirled into the room, her hair coiled tightly on top of her head. Rose wondered as she offend did, if her hair was twisted far too tight, and if she loosened just a tab whether or not she would be might much more pleasant.

Cordelia ignored her completely, turning instead to the large wooden chest which she loudly rummaged through before pulling out a lilac-colored dress. Then the woman ordered Rose to get off her bum and get clothed, Cordelia helped remove the nightgown and she slipped on the shaft over Rose's head. Despite her incivility, Cordelia was always gentle in action, if never her words, and dressed Rose as if she were a glass doll. When Cordelia was satisfied that she was justly clothed, she made her sit down and then took out a wide bristled brush and began to hastily comb the knots out of her hair. It took some time. Rose sat rigidly on the comfortless stool, and waited impatiently for the deed to be finished. To pass the time, she twisted her fingers together.

When Rose's hair was brushed and smoothed, Cordelia led her to the mirror. "Do you think that suits?" she said, placing a hand on her shoulder. "You should wear purple, it brings out your eyes."

Rose nodded, but said nothing. It was easier to keep peace with Cordelia as long as she was silent.

A loud knock on the door, saved her from further conversation. Cordelia stopped, startled, and paused. "Tornac?" said Cordelia.

"Yes? May I come in?"

"Yes, if you must." Tornac pecked his head into the room, before entering. He was halfway into the room when, Cordelia said, "You did not say you would come by this day."

"Good morrow, ladies." Tornac said, he then turned Cordelia, "No, I did not. If you would not mind, I would like to borrow Rose for the day."

Cordelia scoffed. "Please, take her."

"I don't believe you've had the chance to break your fast, as of yet, have you, Rose?" he said.

"Not as of yet, Tornac," Rose said flashing him a smile.

He returned her gesture with a wide smile of his own. Tornac was usually in high spirits in the morning, it was later in the day that his humor shifted depending on the outcome of the past hours. "After you eat, come to the sables. We will be journeying the trails today."

Her grin widened. Riding along the trails was something Rose enjoyed, it was not as tedious as sitting listening to her tutor lecture or having to pay attention to that ancient bard drone on and on about the many hundreds of way to play the viol. It was not that she didn't enjoy her lessons, most days she delighted them, but this day was sun was shining down in embers rays reflecting gloriously off the emerald blades of grass and her mind ached to be outside. To breath in the fresh summer day and relax in the warming sun.

"Her lessons," Cordelia protested, "are far more important than dragging her through some wood."

Tornac shrugged. "Conan has fallen ill. There would be no lessons today even if I did not plan on 'dragging her through some wood.' We will not be gone all day, I plan on us returning before dinner. That way, since you seem to be so concerned about young Rose's lesson you shall be able to assist her in her studies."

Rose watched in amusement as Cordelia's face twisted in distaste. Her beady eyes, looked like they might, just maybe, burst from her face. Meeting Tornac's steady gaze, she fought back a smile.

"Enjoy your day," Cordelia said. Then she grasped Rose's hand and pulled from the bedchamber, "Come along, Muirgheal."

"I got more than you," Rose said. She holding out her cupped hands, which held a small bundle of rounded blueberries, in front of him, looking to be rather unimpressed. It was to her displeasure, that Tornac insisted on stopping along a narrow valley covered in tall grasses and colorful wildflowers, to pick blueberries.

Tornac laughed vaguely, and examined her pickings with a great seriousness. "By the gods, did you ever," said he, shutting the flap of his shoulder-pack, which was filled halfway with the berries.

The girl bobbed her head at him. "How many have you gotten?"

Fingering the strap to his bag protectively, Tornac reached up and plucked a plump blueberry from the very top of the billowing bush. "Only this one," he told her, holding the berry inbetween his fingers for her to see.

"Is that it?" asked Rose in disbelief, her eyebrows rising. "We've been out for hours. What have you been doing?"

Tornac smiled teasingly at her. "I've been eating them all," he said.

"Tornac!" she exclaimed. Rose shifted her feet and gave him an exasperated glare. "You have not really, have you?"

"Every single one," Tornac said, playfully rubbing his stomach, "and let me inform you, young Rose, on how delectable each and every single one of those blueberries were."

Rose began to giggle at Tornac.

"You are ridiculous," she said, between her giggling. "I bet you're just about to burst after eating so much."

"You think me so?" he asked.

She calmed herself, and smiled openly at him. "Honestly, Tornac," Rose said, "I believe that have known you long enough for me to say, I _know_ so."

"Cheeky girl," he muttered in a low voice.

Grinning at him, she picked up her woven sack from the ground and unstrung it before sliding the blueberries in her hand inside. "I would not be as cheeky if it were not for your influence."

"I pray that I have not taught you these ill manners of yours."

Rose bit her lip and glanced amusedly at him. "I learned all of my manners from you," she said, narrowing her eyes at him. "Beware, Tornac!"

Tornac chuckled gravely and shook his head. "Then, please, find it in your heart to forgive me."

Sighing mockingly, Rose eyed him critically. "I suppose that I forgive you."

"Thank the gods," said Tornac, mock seriously.

Rose sighed again, her good humor lost, and suddenly towards the trees. In the distance she could hear the melodic chirping of crickets, and she listened entaced wondering how the noise could affect her in such a way. It felt like a distant memory, a inkling of something she long forgotten. She shifted uneasily as she felt Tornac go rigid beside her and also look in the woodland, he hand resting on the silver snakehead that was fashioned onto the hilt of his sword.

"Rose? Is something amiss?"

Shaking herself, Rose turned towards Tornac. "No, I do not think so."

Tornac looked curiously at her for a short moment, before bending down to pick up the small bag filled with blueberries at her feet, thinking that it probably time to return. His sack catch on the fallen branch and it tipped spilling a hand full of berries onto the ground.

"Tornac," Rose gasped in surprise. "You lied! You didn't eat all the berries!"

Tornac looked up at her, his light blue eyes glistening and laughed lightly. He scooped up the blueberries and emptied her sack into the bag, and Rose watched as the fat berries meddled and united.

* * *

_A/N:Anon- Sorry, that the side stories disupt the story flow for you, but I will not post them apart unless it causes a huge issue. This is mainly because I want to keep everything together and in one peace. I try to make it easy to people to tell the side stories and chapters apart, in hopes that no big troubles will arise. It makes it much easlier for me to manage, which is the strange way my mind works._


	24. Chapter 15

_____I do not own the Inheritance Cycle._  
Enjoy,

* * *

**A Bird in Flight**

It was a remarkably beautiful winter evening, the final light was lingering in faint streaks of cerulean and yellow, reflecting into the room off of a prism. It was a strange sight that prism, as Rose had never seen anything similar to it, shaped to appear to be a bird in mid-flight, cut with a stunning amount of detail. It was made out of some unusual speckled glass that was fashioned loosely from the ceiling by thin golden linked chain. Rose sat on the plush window seat turning the suspended glass bird over with her fingers, watching as tinted light spilled out of the smooth facets.

It was so pleasant to be alone in a beautiful room, and not to feel filthy or cold or frightened. But now she had little peace, all these disturbing thoughts bubbled up inside her. She hadn't the time to reflect, it seemed since Thorn hatched, and the question that kept rising up inside her was more than a bit confusing. Who was she? Before she had always known who she was, rather it was Morzan's orphaned daughter: Muirgheal, then the young and foolish girl who had revoked her usename as a childish demonstration of rebellion, and later a young lady destined to the likeliness of her mother, and now a Dragon Rider come to unite the Varden in resistance to the Empire's king- but what did any of these really mean? Was her becoming a Dragon Rider a way for Fate to form synchronization after so many years of her father's brutalities? To close a twisted cycle and bring order to the organization that her father assisted in the downfall of? Or was she perhaps simply a pawn for The Varden and the Elves?

She wondered restlessly if they would ever reach The Varden and if they did, whether it would answer any of her questions. Her feelings about Ailis were entirely enigmatic. She knew she trusted her as she trusted no other person in her life, save Tornac, but she really didn't understand why. Perhaps it was because Tornac trusted her as well, but inside she knew that it was more than that. She remembered how Ailis had first stood before her, years ago it seemed, her face anxious and vulnerable, and now she thought, sad. Even then it didn't occur to her to doubt Ailis, not truly, but at that time she was wary of the woman, she was wary of everyone. She thought of Ailis' stern, mobile face, how driven she seemed, but then how she would light up with a sudden warm smile… What was she to Ailis? A tool to defeat the King Galbatorix, a thing of power… but not merely that, surely? What was she doing, fleeing through such perils with this woman, to The Varden, a people she truly knew nothing of? What if Ailis was wrong? Would she then abandon Rose to her fate? And what of Tornac? All her life he had cautioned her on the very dangers they were willingly trailing into, so what was Ailis to him? How had she earned his trust so completely, so that he had no doubt in her? What were his plans once they reached The Varden? Would he simply continue to advice her in her actions? Or would he teach warriors the art of swordcraft, as she knew he desired to?

She knew that The Varden leader would force her and Thorn into alliance with them in order to bring on the downfall of King Galbatorix. But she had no desire to face the King and defeat him, or the order he had brought about. There was nothing wicked in the Empire's principle, as a matter of fact she knew it to quite sound, it was only the King himself that needed to be eliminated, but, alas, The Varden wished to tear down both. But Rose wished to have nothing to do with this conflict, she was certain she would forced into. Unless, and this thought she knew was impossible, a fantasy and rather laughable but she thought it all the same, unless by some extraordinary luck there were more Dragon Riders in Alagaësia that could perhaps unite.

She had been ruminating for a long time, it was now deep into the hours of night, when the door to her room opened and Ailis peered in. "Rose! You are awake." Ailis came inside. "I had thought that perhaps you might have been sleeping," she said, glancing at the bounty of cushions on top of the bed. "Have you been spending your time well?"

Rose silently nodded. She had spent most of that evening, after dinner, sitting by the window, playing her viol. She had played through some scales, as she out of practice, and then, when satisfied with the resonance, she began slipping from one melody to another, deepening the harmonies and extending the variations as she went, humming softly as she did so.

Ailis, Rose noticed, had recently washed as her hair, loosened from the twist that usually held it, fell in a river of mingled browns and bronzes that was shining with dampness. She had changed out of the rich gown she had worn to dinner, replacing it replacing a rather simple moss green robe with a faint stenciling of lilies sewn in a darker thread. Ailis looked rather perplexed, her face dark with thought.

"Is all well?" said Rose.

"Hmm? Oh, yes, of course," she said, eying Rose warmly. "Do you mind me brushing your hair? It has been over long since your hair has had a decent combing, I think."

When Rose consented, she was forced into a chair and Ailis began to undo the plaiting in her hair. Then when her hair was unwoven Ailis brushed it out with a boar-bristle hairbrush. Rose leaned back against her, sleepy from the evening meal.

At dinner, they had joined the household, which consisted of about twenty people. There was Voirrey's direct family, her husband, Padern and their two teenaged sons Jory and Daveth, and their daughter, Breaca, who was not more than five years of age. Then there were Padern's relatives, his mother Caitriona, and his brother's family, Bearnard and his wife, Rose could not recall her name, along with their adult son Gwilym. But there were others as well who had no relation to the family at all, but bore some other profound relationship of work or inclination.

The dining room itself was quite elegant; painted a pale ocher with a series of blue and white tiles around the doors and windows and fireplaces, each painted with a different scene: the mouth of an elegant lily, children playing, a bumbling bee perched peacefully on top of a blossom, a lazy riverbed with two fishermen, long horned cows grazing in a field. In the center of the dining room was a dark wooden table set with candles in glass holders and fine, goldleaf embellished plates. In the middle were dishes piled high with a generous meal: fat rounds of golden bread, little bowls of vegetables and sauces, plates heaped with carved meats and cheese. There was a bowl of shells with orange lips, mussels, Rose was later told. Even filled with the many people, it was a calm, beautiful room.

The conversation remained general and Rose ate her way through asparagus yellowed by dripping butter, a salad of herbs and nasturtiums, fresh trout baked with garlic and lemon and herbs, and emboldened by interest she tried a small piece of mussel. It was only politeness that prevented her from spitting it out on the table, it even made her feel a little sick. Having lost her appetite she sat quietly, sipping from a goblet filled with sweet ruby wine, listening a conversation about the politics of Teirm and other regions of Alagaësia. It was only when Voirrey insisted that she try a piece of apricot pastry which was piled high with rich crème, that the woman made herself, did she eat more. The pastry was delicious and exceptionally tasteful. It was no wonder she was so sleepy.

After some time Ailis let her up, and she glanced into the mirror from the chair. Looking at her reflection, Rose sighed, though the months of hard travel had leaned and strengthened her body, the person in the mirror seemed no different than the one that stared back at her in Urû'baen. The only difference she could see was a threadlike scar on her forehead, from her fall into the briar bushes, but even this was concealed with a mass of hair. She made a face at her reflection and her eyes stared back at her gravely. Suddenly there came to her into her mind, at once very vivid and immeasurably distant, a memory of her father's face bending toward her, perhaps to roar in anger. She realized with a slight shock that she looked very much like Morzan. It made her feel desolate, and she wondered how she had never noticed before.

"I did not think Voirrey had kept this silly thing," Ailis said.

Rose tore her eyes away from the mirror, and looked at Ailis. She was cradling the bird prism in her hands, staring down at it, her hair softly tumbling into her face. Rose perceived a great sadness in Ailis' face, and wondered what griefs had carved her past. Ailis shook herself a little and smiled, seeming again serene and practical.

"It's not a glass I recognize," Rose said.

Ailis looked up from studying the strange freckled glass and walked toward her, she sat herself on the armrest of the chair. "I would think not," she said smiling. "It is a piece I know very little about, other than it was a gift to mother from my father." She glanced cautiously at Rose. "He went hungry for almost a year, but he did not regret getting it, I think. It was one of reasons my mother married him."

Roe raised her eyebrows cynically at her, and faintly smiled. "You mother married someone because that person gave her a glass bird?"

Ailis smiled. "I suppose I ought to rephrase that. My mother fancied him because he showed such kindness and later loved him, and because of that love she married him." She looked over at Rose cover a yawn with her hand. "And now, I suppose it is time we ought to go to bed, yes?"

Rose nodded again in agreement. "Have a good night, Ailis," Rose said.

"And you too!" She strolled to the door, and after opening it she hurried down the hall.

After Ailis left, Rose stood and pulled her viol off the window cushion and walked over to her packs. She hadn't bothered to unpack, for the moment she was just happy to relax and not shuffle through her bags, that would be a task for another day. She put the viol carefully in its case, yawned sleepily, pulled off the dress and fell gratefully into bed.

For the first time since she could remember, Rose dreamed of her mother. She was not dressed in a long flowing gown, but as if for travel, with a long cloak and clothes of padded leather and blackened bracers, she had a dagger swinging from her waist. In the dream her mother stood, tall and proud and strong, far from her in a meadow of waving grass swinging a small glimmering hoary sword at some unseen enemy. As she swung the sword an arch of colored light- sapphire, gold, amethyst, crimson- flew out of the blade and circled her in a graceful dance. Rose looked behind her at a fortress of bronzed stone, two citadels rose elegantly into the sky like the stems of lilies where a crimson dragon flew twisting around the towers. Rose knew that the dragon was not Thorn, it was far too long and angular, processing not of his composure in flight. She turned away from the castle and looked back at her mother, finding that the woman had stopped her display and was watching her with dark eyes. Rose called out to her- "Mamma,"- and took a step off the path into the grass, but her mother turned and leapt into a fast ran. Rose chased after, but her strides were small and pathetic, and she could not reach her.

"Wait up!" Rose called.

"Muirgheal," said her mother, turning her head to look back her, her hair flied forth covering her face. "You have to keep up."

Rose stumbled over a rock.

"You're too fast," she said. "Why are you running from me?"

"I've never run from you, little cricket," her mother said. "I'm right here."

And when she straightened herself and looked up, she realized that her mother wasn't running ahead of her at all but was stand peacefully beside her. She looked questioningly at her mother, but the woman was looking away towards the castle and into the sky, and Rose followed her gaze. The large dragon was diving towards them, its massive talons outstretched. It's claret wings beat the air like deafening thunder, matching the rhythm of her heart…_thump…thump…thump…_ She gasped in fear as it neared, its maw dripping in liquid flames, and tried to run, but found that she could not move and looked desperately towards her mother who what watching the dragon with calm, hateful eyes. She looked back at dragon as the wings beat the air once more and the ground shook beneath her, it claws extended out not far from above her. There was a sudden scream but it did not come from her, and she looked around fearfully but saw only the grass filled vale, her mother gone.

She woke to find her cheeks wet and cold with tears. She turned and looked out of the window over the garden. It was still deep night and the stars blazed coldly in the sky, casting shifting shadows on the cool grass. The image of her mother burned in her mind, bright and immeasurably far away. Rose couldn't remember much her mother as she barely saw her and when she did she was too young for her childish memory to recall the woman in detail. Her mother had passed not long after her father was killed, Rose knew with adamant certainty that his death had destroyed her mother. She wondered what it was like to love someone like that, like her mother had loved her father. She never would: it was far too dangerous. And even Rose hadn't been enough to save her. Why not? A pain she had never acknowledged opened and flowered in her breast. Why couldn't _she_ save her mother? Why had Selena died? How had she died? Rose couldn't remember, she only knew what she was told, and that was painfully little.

Rose sat up and stared sadly in front of her, hugging the blankets around her shoulders. She no longer felt sleepy. There were so many things happening to her, and she didn't know to think of any of them. Her mind ran restlessly through the events of the last weeks, all she felt was confused.

Feeling restless, she got out of bed and threw on the red dress she had discarded. She wandered out the room and into the darkness to the stairway. Stepping down the stone stairs, she heard a shout in the distance and pounding footsteps like the clomping of many horses. She hastily ran down the flight of steps and made her way through the halls to the atrium, turning the wrong way only once, noticing with concern the shouts from outdoors.

The shadows of the large pots flickered cruelly on the stone wall which was alit with a golden light, like that from a fire. There was a chaos of noise: the roar of flames, the crack of stone and wood buckling, yelling and a high bawl of terror. Rose squeezed her eyes shut, steeling herself, and rushed off the tiled pouch and onto the grass barefooted, her feet becoming slick from the grey dew that covered the ground.

Turning the corner she saw what the commotion was: the stables were ablaze, the flames shooting high into the sky, there were four men standing far from the fire shouting fiercely at one another and a woman was seemingly trying bring peace to the scene, buckets half filled with water were discarded across the trampled gardens, a child was wailing in his mother's arms.

She heard someone shout her name and she turned to find Tornac, his face thickly covered in soot so that it covered his scar and darkened his hair. He leaned down to say something to whoever he was standing next to, and walked over to her.

"The horses?" she asked.

He rubbed his arm. "Are most likely running about the forest in terror. Have you just awoken?"

Rose nodded. "Does anyone know how this happened?"

"No," he said. "I only just came in time to assist setting the beasts free. No one has said much, there's not much to say. Now we simply wait until the fire has burnt itself out, so that we might find out how this has happened."

Rose bit her lip and looked at him out the corner of her eyes. "I suppose there is not much you can do, except to wait."

"There is not."

Rose thought worriedly of Eowyn and wondered if she was unharmed, and where she was. She thought about contacting Thorn and asking him to hunt her down, but thought better of it, Thorn frightened the horse and after fleeing from a fire, her fright might just kill her. Rubbing her hands together, she sighed.

She shifted and her foot connected with a branch causing her to slip onto the ground. Tornac looked down at her in concern, but she ignored his questioning gaze and glanced behind her to see what she had stumbled on. Grasping ahold of a long winding rod, she stood up and looked it over. Tornac raised an eyebrow at her, as if to ask if she was hurt, and she shook her head. He placed his hand on her shoulder and guided her over the person he was talking to, and she followed silently beside him.

Running her fingers over the long walking stick, she thought that perhaps the fire was not a mishap, but that someone had done it intentionally. A marauder, perhaps, or someone seeking vengeance- but vengeance for what? Rose bit her lip uncertainly. She thought she knew who might have set the sables ablaze, but she wasn't willing to put a name to him. It seemed improbable that he had hunted her down through so many leagues of land, but she thought it be true as unlikely as it was.


	25. Side Story 10

_____________________I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.  
I'm beginning to feel really bad about these poor chapters sandwiched wedged between the side stories.  
I've been wanting to write this for a long time. Its really, really short, I know- but I like it.  
If you can take a moment to tell me what you think, it'd be greatly appreciated.  
Enjoy,  
Set in the time where elves and dragons fought..._

* * *

_Sorrow_

_There was no victory in war,_ the elf thought bitterly, looking at the lifeless face of Dierdre._ War is a thief, it takes everything and gives nothing._

Dierdre. The name fell softly onto his lips, and he whispered it once more knowing she would not ever answer to it again. It was because of this war her light was forever lost. He saw her face in his mind's eye, once ablaze with enthusiasm was now yellowed and dim, her lips crackled with blood. Her joy and her tinkling laugh, her wisdom and wit were forever gone from this world. Destined was the memory of her loveliness and grace to one day be forgotten. Her music ended, she would no longer sing the glory of autumn in the high halls of the grand elves.

He sniffled, and covered his face with his hands and wept with despair.

His people did not seem so grand to him at this moment. Savages they were, murderers of their own kind. Hatred ran through their veins like fire, poisoning their tongues and strengthening only their blood-stained blades. They lived for the glory of death, and death strived off their glory. They fought foolishly for riches only to find a black treasure. These were his people, the elves.

Oh, how they have fallen!

Once famous for their beauty and generosity, which was now only remembered in proverbs. His people had lived in towers topped with polished domes of gold and silver and bronze that caught the golden sun in the morning and evening, a glowing light the dimmed sky. There, in the land of Alalëa, the elves once lived watching the twinkling stars, making songs in their great halls, and forged things of great beauty and power. Below their gleaming towers, shone fat vines filled with rich jeweled fruits that winemakers took heart into the making for wine.

While he wept, sweet falls of rain fell onto the ground diluting the thick streams of blood, and soon he was soaked thoroughly. However, the elf did not care, if the rain washed him away into a sorrowful river, so be it. There were things that were far worse, destinies that were far more painful.

After some time he stirred, and he looked at the gentle face of Dierdre once more. With a broken breath he ran his hand over her face, her skin felt like stone so very hard and lifeless. He closed her unseeing eyes with two fingers. With a staggered breath, he bent down and kissed her forehead in farewell. _She is no longer Dierdre,_ he thought with a great sorrow, _Dierdre had passed into the veil of stars many hours ago._ Then he rose, he clothing dripping with crystalline drops. It was a hard task to walk away with from She-who-was-once-known-as-Dierdre, but he did with a back straightened only by pride.

He walked around a glimmering body of a goldened armored monster, and looked thoughtfully at its horned face. _There must be a better way to fight these beasts, _he thought as his shoes slashed in dark puddles. _But perhaps, the way to fight is the same as it to heal. This world has seen enough blood. Warriors are no longer needed, it is healers that can only make a difference now._ He paused and looked towards the sky. _But my people shall not listen to my plea. What am I, but a simple elf, nothing of great importance._ He closed his eyes and fought back the tears that burned them. _Will anyone remember the name of Eragon, when I leave this world? Surely they will not, just as no one will remember the names of those I've loved and lost._ He blinked his eyes and wiped his nose with sleeve on his arm, before continuing on. He would find wisdom, knowledge on how to stop this war, to stop all wars, but at the time he would do as he must to exist. His life had ended the moment Dierdre fell to the ground from so high above. She had been the first of them to fly.


	26. Side Story 11

_______________________I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.  
So there are almost as many side-stories as chapters... but whatever. I have way too much writing these silly things, and they help me keep the characters in line. So far this is my favorite side-story.  
In this Rose is about 11 years old.  
Enjoy,_

* * *

_Treasures_

Rose hurried down the leafy tunnel, her silk slippers whispering over the paved path. Looking over her shoulder to see if anyone was pursuing her, she yanked the shining ribbon from her head. She saw no one, and yet, she could not shake the feeling that someone was there watching her, not far behind… She shook herself, and continued past the boxwood walls, as quietly and quickly as she could manage.

She paused once, briefly near the end of the tunnel where the light from the sun fell in dapples, painting all it touched in a soft golden light, and ran her fingers nervously through her hair. When her hair was smoothed, she tied it back with the ribbon and looked critically down at a potted vase of many colored irises. Her fingers twitched as if she were to pluck one and then formed into a tight fist. She glanced forward, running her fingers through her hair once more, before she took a deep breath and jogged to the archway.

She heard him, before she saw him.

"Good day, Rose!" a voice called to her, and she turned towards the voice's owner with a wide grin.

She rubbed her wrists fretfully. "Hello, Ilbert," she said. "What have you got there?"

Ilbert smiled back her, and Rose could have sworn that her heart skipped a beat.

"Spinning tops," he said. "Da brought them from a trader in the west. Come sit down and see." Ilbert patted the ground next to him. Rose hastily strode forward and sat close to him. "Do you still have that bracelet?" he asked.

"I have it," said Rose, tugging her sleeve past her wrist, revealing a shining gold wristlet with an iridescent banded stone in the center. It was slightly too big for her wrist, and the slack had been tightened by a colored strand of twine.

Ilbert grinned and touched the polished stone lightly. Shifting on the ground, he looked up at her. "That was fun," he said.

"It was," Rose agreed, smiling at the memory.

"We'll have to do that again sometime."

"We will."

Ilbert smiled happily at her and held up a one of the spinning tops, placing it into her hands. "Want to play?"

Rose nodded a little too eagerly, then she paused. "You'll have to show me how. I've never played with spinning tops."

"It's never too late to learn," Ilbert said, then he proceeded to show her how to play with the strange spinning tops.

It was a rather simple task, and soon she found herself watching the painted spinning tops spin hypnotically.

)(.().)(

That previous week, Ilbert had begged Rose to explore an apartment, at the far end of the hall close to where the libraries were, that had laid barricaded and unused throughout living memory. There were many closed-off rooms in Urû'baen's castle, as the court was smaller than it once had been, but not many were surrounded in such legend and woe.

Some lifelong servants said that the apartments were cursed, that there had been a tragic affair that ended in a bloody death. It was said that at night a ghostly woman dressed in white sometimes appears at the window or the foot of the bed her hands extended, her loose hair floating about her face, or sometimes the sound of a wailing cry could be heard in the dark hours of the night. Others said that the rooms were simply abandoned because the wall of windows made it cold in the winter and hot in the summer. Ilbert seemed to agree with the latter.

"Stop being such a girl," he told her, as she stood nervously next to him shifting fretfully from foot to foot. "It's just a tale to keep people from snooping."

"And if it's not?" she asked looking nervously around them.

He smiled widely. "Then we're dead."

"That's an awfully cheery thought, don't you think?" said Rose, swallowing loudly.

He laughed merrily, and Rose felt her already franticly pounding heart sped to a faster pace.

When Ilbert pulled the final broad from the door and unlocked it, Rose grasped firmly onto his arm. He looked at her questioningly, but said nothing, opened the door walking into a suite of rooms. The rooms looked as if they had been frozen in time, in an endless waiting for its former occupants to return.

The public rooms were bookshelves lined chaotically with lines and lines of books, their gilt lettering on the spines glistened in the light, and curious instruments and ornaments. There was a small ash filled grate with elegant carvings of ivied flowers and fat buzzing bees, and above it a crumbling painting. A fractured inkwell was turned over its contents dried eerily across the marble floor, like ancient blood. The furniture was huddled under a dust covered drop cloth to protect it from the radiant sunlight that streamed through the grimy windows.

Ilbert shook Rose off and grabbed ahold of her hand, squeezing it lightly in comfort. The children stepped slowly inside, poised to turn and run. The silence and stillness was unnerving; their footsteps sounded too loud. Even the beating of their hearts seemed amplified. Ilbert walked toward a large divan and removed the drapes with his free hand, the fabrics gleamed surprisingly vibrant after the many years. They worked their way to the room opposite the grate without finding anything interesting.

The more Rose looked the less she liked it.

The room was a private chambers, there were more books piled high on the stand next to the bed. A doll dressed in an old-fashioned gown, her blue eyes glazed out sadly from a shelf in the corner. Graceful combs and silver brushes cluttered the dressing table, their bristles frayed by mice, and perfume bottles stood on a silver mirror, their contents evaporated many years ago. A large wardrobe squatted lazily across from the curtained bed.

Ilbert walked eagerly to the wardrobe, and opened its front, Rose peering curiously over his shoulder. There were gowns from a lost age hung neatly for a tall willowy girl with a narrow waist, when Ilbert touched the fabrics they crumbled under his touch. White fungus grew cleverly in one of the wardrobe's corners, next to a polished wooden box. Rose move beside him and reached for the box and she pulled it out, the wood was smooth and felt like silk.

"What do you think is inside it?" said Rose.

"Probably the weapon that killed the White Lady," he said in jest.

"Ilbert!"

He looked at her, his hazel-green eyes gleaming merrily with mischief. "I know my name, Rosie," he said. "Now, are you going to open that box, or will I? I'd like you to open so that you can prove me right, since you don't seem to believe me."

"I never said that I didn't believe you," said Rose narrowing her eyes at him.

"You didn't need to. Please open it, the day is wasting away."

She gave him a withering glare, and looked uneasily down at the box. It felt wrong to meddle through someone's personal belongings, even if they were long ago died. Rose bit her lip, and despite her feelings she unclasped the box. She pulled out its sole article from inside with the tips of her fingers and held it up to Ilbert.

"You're correct," Rose said, seriously. "This _is _the murder weapon. How very fearsome, it is."

"Very funny," said Ilbert, grabbing the bracelet from her fingers and looked at it over with critical eyes.

Then he suddenly barked a harsh cough and slowly lowered himself onto the ground, Rose franticly looked around, before sitting down beside him to wait, there was little she could do. Having seen him in a worse state before, she placed her hand lightly on his arm and looked around the room noting each detail she saw.

Rose had met Ilbert in late winter two years previously. A calm, adventurous small boy with twisting dull brown hair and bright, lively eyes, Rose had liked him on sight. Little time had passed before the two of them became fast friends, sharing many secrets and much time together. He was a sickly boy who wished for very little sympathy, and in this Rose could relate as she sought no pity for her being parentless. Many of their peers shirked away from them, and when the children of the Court did speak with them it was an uncomfortable exchange brought on only by politeness, perhaps, this was why the two children got on so well, or perhaps it was because they had little one else to turn to.

After a long time his coughing subsided, he turned towards Rose. His lips were slightly blue from his former struggle to breath, and his face was so paled that it was almost translucent.

"Do you need something to drink?" Rose asked.

He wiped the drool from around his mouth with his sleeve, and stood up. "Not at this moment," he said in a rough voice.

Rose nodded. "What are we to do with the bracelet?" Rose asked as she stood up. "Shall we put it back?"

"I think you should wear it," he said.

"Wear it?!" She nearly shouted, stumbling back. "I can't wear that, it belongs to some died person," she continued in a calmer voice, "and besides, it looks far too big for me."

"It wouldn't be so big if you didn't have wrists the same size as a chicken's leg," Ilbert retorted.

She glowered at him. "Thanks for the kind complaint."

"I'm sorry," he said in a kinder tone, looking taken aback. "Please, forgive me. What I mean is..." He paused. "I don't know what I mean, however the previous owner probably has no use for it, but you do."

"No, I don't," she argued.

"We'll figure a reason out," he said, pulling feebly at her hand. "Here let me put it on. Hold still. Really, Rose, it is not as the person would care, they'd probably be happy someone wants to wear it."

"Or be in a fit of murderous rage," Rose said, watching as Ilbert fastened the clasp.

"If the former owner's ghost kills you tonight, than you can tell me that I was wrong."

"That's real comforting," Rose said. "Thank you for the offer, Ilbert, but how about I just haunt your dreams instead."

He shrugged. "That sounds good too."

"So it's a deal?"

He made a face. "I am done making deals with you," he said, as the clasp clicked close. "There it's on. A little big like you said, but eat a couple pasties at night for a year and it won't be." Rose glared at him and he laughed at her. "Come now, Rosie, let us see what other treasures we can find!"

* * *

_A/N: My thinking onto some of the reasons why I created Ilbert: in 'Eragon' Murtagh said he stayed at friend's estate in the country, and from much of what Murtagh did say he was truly stuck inside the capital, so who did he meet his country friend? I don't know, but in this for Rose's sake: Ilbert is her friend who lives in the country. When Rose turned 13 and Ilbert 14, he moved to a country side estate with his Aunt and Uncle due to his poor health. I plan on him showing up later in the storyline itself, and I can't wait to write that.__  
I had fun writing this and I hope you enjoyed reading it._


	27. Chapter 16

_______I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
After strugging and rewriting this chapter a total of three times, before deciding to go with the origanal version, I cannot tell you how happy I am that it done. On the plus side the next chapter is close to finished, since I put most of the deleted content in it. One of these days, I'm going to write Ailis' point of veiw on this chapter, her's will make amuch more sense and be more interesting.  
Take a moment to tell me your thoughts.  
As always enjoy,_

* * *

**Truth and Tales**

It was late afternoon the following day before Rose woke. When she opened her eyes, all she could see was an expense of white, and across it danced a ripple of golden light. She watched for a short time, and realized that she was looking at a ceiling. She must be in Urû'baen, she thought, but the ceilings there were stone not white. Then everything suddenly rushed back to her, and she sat up abruptly.

A little girl was sitting in the corner, playing with a doll which was dressed nattily in satin.

"I didn't wake you, did I?" said the little girl looking up at her. "Mammy said not wake you all up, so I only sit all the way over here where I cannot wake you. But you're awake. Did you have a scary dream? I wake up all the time whenever I has a scary dream. One time I had a dream about this really, really huge blue sparkling fish with wings! It was scary, because the fish was flying, and it eat all my dollies until they all be gone. Do you like dollies, they're really, really pretty. I like they're pretty, pretty hair. Your hair is all fluffy, why is it all fluffy?"

Rose stared at her, and blinked in bewilderment. She had been told, late the night before after the fire began to fade, that no one would bother her. "Should you to be in here?"

The girl looked up at her with curious eyes, and Rose remembered who she was. Her name was Breaca, the young daughter of Voirrey and Padern. The night before Breaca's appearance had puzzled Rose, as the child did not resemble either of her parents or their other children. Her parents and siblings were dark haired and tanned skin, while Breaca had vivid red hair that tumbled down her back in loose ringlets, wide green eyes, and very fair, very freckled skin.

"No," Breaca said returning to playing with her doll.

Rose hugged the blankets securely to her chest. "If you are not allowed in here, then you should leave."

The girl bobbed her head, and continued with her game, noisily smacking her lips together all the while. After a short moment of this, Rose sighed loudly, and pushed a few strands of hair back from her face. At that moment, Breaca looked up, holding her doll above her head, and sent Rose a wide toothy grin. Rose noticed that two of her front teeth were missing.

"Did you not hear me?"

"I heard you," said Breaca, with a shrug of her shoulders. "You say that I should get out, not that I had to." Her grin widened. "So you be nice, you let me stay. Jory and Daveth don't ever let me stay. They're really, really mean all the time and call me really, really mean names. I don't like them." She took a loud breath. "Mammy says I have to love them because they're my brothers, but that doesn't mean I has to like them. Do you have any brothers? You're lucky if you don't because brothers be meany-heads all the time because they call sisters naughty names and say mean things."

"Please, leave," Rose said narrowing her eyes.

Breaca met her eyes. "No," she said in a mulish tone. "I can't. Jory will find me, and I don't want Jory to find me. He'll be really, really mean to me if he finds me, and this is the only place he can't look so you has to let me stay."

Closing her eyes, Rose took a deep breath. She did not interact with children often, and never had awoken to find one sitting the corner of her chamber. She had done such things to Cordelia, so to needle the woman, but those had often ended ill for Rose. Rose thought of Tornac and the many conversations, how he had always seemed to have a never ending tolerance. She took another deep breath and summoned all her patience.

"Jory is your brother, yes" asked Rose. Breaca nodded and opened her mouth to speak, but Rose did not allow her the chance. "I thought as much. Now, will you tell me the reason you wish Jory not to find you?"

"No."

"Then you need to get out."

Breaca receded further into the corner, and looked down at her lap. "I tell you, but only if you promise to let me stay with you." She paused then said, "You let me stay and I'll be really, really quiet. I promise."

"You may stay," said Rose cautiously, not meaning the words.

The girl paused as if to consider her words carefully.

"Jory is mean. I did something mean because he is mean, and-and now he's looking for me. He deceived it but-but now he be really, really anger at me, even though he deceived it."

Rose nodded, yawning tiredly and closed her eyes. Resting against the cushions she thought that, perhaps, it was not too late to fall back into the delicious folds of sleep.

"You're really, really lazy," said Breaca loudly causing Rose to open her eyes and look at her without humor, "and you drool like a old doggy. I've been up for a long, long time. Mammy says that ladies should never, ever sleep when it be day out because it makes them lazy, and being lazy no be good. If you be lazy all your chickens die and you will be very, very hungry and have nothing to eat because you let all your chickens go be died." She looked at Rose seriously. "Did all your chickens go be died because you be lazy?"

"I thought you said you were going to be quiet." Breaca pressed her lips firmly together, and smiled cheekily at Rose. "I suppose I need to get dressed, and since you insist on staying you best turn away," she said, looking impassively at the child.

"Mammy set out clothes for you over there," said Breaca, helpfully pointing to a carved trunk, on which was a robe draped over it. She turned around and began to play with her toy once more. "Why has you got a sword?" Breaca asked, as Rose got out of the bed. "Mammy says that only men carry swords, but you don't look like a man. Are you man? If you be a man, why do you wear a dress? Men don't ever wear dresses." Breaca took a deep sudden and deep breath. "You weren't wearing a dress yesterday when you got here. Why weren't you wearing a dress yesterday when you got here? Where did you get here from? Daveth said that Jory said that Uncle Bean said that you come from a place far, far away from here. Daveth also said that you grew up in the woods, and played with wolves. Were you born in the wild? Why didn't the wolves eat you? Uncle Bean said that wolves eat little kids and that's why I can't be out at night, or in the woods. Have you ever met my Uncle Bean? Uncle Bean isn't his real name, I just like to call him that. It's so, so funny because beans make Uncle Bean really, really sick all over!"

_It's a wonder: I'm dressed, my hair is decent and she has yet to stop talking,_ Rose thought.

She walked to the window with a sigh and looked out. The day was clear and beautiful, as if to make up for the mishap the night before. She watched the birds dive in and out of the tall reeds not far from two boyish figures that sat in the grasses with a long pole in hand, probably fishing. She stayed there for a short moment before walking past the babbling girl, as if she were not there. After tucking her sword, which she had absentmindedly left on the top of one of her saddlebags the day before, under the mattress, she walked to the door and out of the chamber. Even with the door firmly shut and the stone walls to muffle the child's voice Rose could still hear Breaca talking vivaciously, though she could not make out the words.

Rose negotiated the halls using the occasional vase filled with vibrant crocuses set on a richly polished stand or the decorated vases to guide her. As she wended her way downstairs, she noticed that Breaca was following her, only a short distance away. When she caught the child's eyes, Breaca ran towards her, the doll being held by its hair behind her, bounding gravely across the floor.

"I come with you," Breaca said, grasping Rose's hand. "You might get all lost. You don't want to get all lost, because then you be lost and that be no good."

Rose ignored the girl and made her way to the Library with no trouble, as she visited the labyrinthine chamber the day before. It had been added to the home in a fastidious fashion in the years that the farmhouse had been built. Some halls were lit by huge windows, but all walls were lined floor to ceiling with shelves each of which were piled with scrolls or leather-bound volumes or curious interments whose purpose she could not guess. Rose would have been quite happy to sit at one of the tables and wander through the books had it not been for Breaca who was clasping tightly onto her hand, following her with opposition.

"If you not wish to be in here then perhaps you should leave," Rose told Breaca, when she began to impatiently tug Rose down the book lined halls.

"No," she said, "I can't. You might be eaten!"

Rose paused, and arched her eyebrows in surpise. "What do you think will eat me?" she asked.

"The books," Breaca said, looking at her with wide eyes. "Daveth says that some the books will eat you if look at them too long." She paused and looked around before dropping her voice to a whisper. "He says that that the Library be haunted, by a evil, evil witch who cursed to books to do it, he told me." She took a jagged breath. "Oh, it's so, so scary!"

Rose's shoulders shook with silent laughter. She looked down at the serious eyes of the child and took a deep breath to compose herself. "It sounds to me as if this brother of yours was telling you tales," Rose said.

"No, Daveth don't ever tell tales," Breaca said. "He be nicer than Jory. Jory lies all the time, just to scare me but it don't work because I ask Daveth if it be true or not. If Daveth say it be true than it be true, if not it not be true because Daveth don't ever lie to me. Do you ever lie? I did once and I got in big, big trouble because lying be bad and I'm not suppose to lie."

Rose looked at her humouredly and turned away in pursuit of a book to read. After a long time, a book was found and Rose turned to a trembling Breaca and asked where there might a sitting room to read. Breaca nodded, happy to leave the Library at last, and pulled her toward the door. Breaca led Rose down the stairs and through a few halls to a friendly sitting room, chattering happily all the while. Inside the sounds of voices talking intently some matter could be heard. Breaca halted quite suddenly, releasing Rose's hand, and turned on her heels, scattering hastily back the way they had come. Rose looked laughingly at the running child, and after Breaca vanished around a corner, she glanced into the sitting room.

It was a grand room, the long casements were shaded with floor-length curtains, which glowed with a rich sheen of gold, and the low couches where covered with the same material, a huge grate stood tall and proud against one wall, dark and without a fire. But these were not what made the room so grand, one wall free of any shimmering curtains which painted, with an elegant hand, so to appear to be looking out to a leafy woodland inhabited with marvelous beasts and birds. Rose looked around, her mouth open, and saw a dark hair man with a burly build seated upon a wooden chair, his head bent, deep in a conversation with Ailis and Voirrey. The man looked up, and Rose recognized him to be Voirrey's husband, and her surprise he beckoned her inside.

"We haven't had the chance for a proper meet," said Padern as she walked in. "I am Padern." He respectfully bowed his head to her, and Rose did the same.

"Pleasure to meet you," she said blandly.

When Rose sat down close to Ailis, at the woman's insistence, Padern glanced between them with dispassionate interest. Then his gaze settled onto Rose, as if he was studying a piece of sculpture. She lifted her chin and met his eyes, which shone blackly with a strange emotion.

"You remind me mightily of you mother," he said.

Rose started and gasped then looked at him through narrowed eyes. "You know who my mother was?"

"Aye, I did," said Padern. "Selena was her name, yes?"

"Yes, it was."

"Padern," Voirrey said, stirring in her seat. "This is hardly the place."

Padern looked at her grimly. "Do you have a better place in mind, my dear?"

Rose glanced at Ailis out the corner of her eyes. Whatever emotion she might have displayed was hidden as she was leaning heavily back in her seat, her eyes closed, her mouth set. Rose looked forward. "How did you know Selena?"

He turned her way and leaned forward. "The same way one might offend find theirself knowing her," he said. "It is hard to forget the face of the one who was sent to kill you."

Rose grimaced. "I did not know."

"I suspect you to know very little of your mother, and in your case, such ignorance can be deadly."

"I know plenty." Rose veiled her irritation with polite humility. "I know of what she has done, enough to understand that it is a wonder you are alive."

He looked at her with cold humor, and opened his mouth as if to respond, but it was Ailis to spoke first. "Are you done with your torment, Padern?" she said, her face dark. "I hope that you are, as I have heard far more than enough of it. Now, do you still have that cherry cordial, I have missed its taste something terrible."

"Oh, yes, we do," Voirrey said. There was a short silence. "I'm sure my husband would not mind fetching us a glass, would you, Padern?" The man looked up, and stared at his wife for a moment, before standing up. When he left the room, Voirrey turned remorsefully towards Rose. "Allow me to apologize for my husband's words, they were ill used," she said. "It is my hope that you can forgive him."

Rose nodded stiffly. "I see no reason that I should not," she said.

Padern returned with a glass decanter full of cherry cordial, gleaming like a huge ruby, and a platter full of sweets. He poured them all a small glass each, and sat down, taking a sip from the glass. Rose shifted in her seat, as much as she wished to leave she know she could not, years of harsh tutoring to stay until she was dismissed echoed in her head, dull voices from the distance. Tensely, she listened as the conversation moved on to other topics.

"Bearnard and Derby are planning to head out in an hour's time," Padern was saying. "It should not take but a day, at the very least, for a single horse to return to us. How long was it that you are planning to stay?"

"Six days at the least, ten at the most. We have traveled hard since leaving Urû'baen, and I know that rest is desired for all of us." Ailis sat up and leaned forward.

"Urû'baen?" Voirrey's eyebrows arched up in surprise. "What exactly were you doing there?" Ailis made a vague gesture, dismissing the question, and Voirrey return the subject before. "My guessing is that, after you fully rested, you wish to travel to Teirm to contact those in the south."

"You're correct, as always, Voirrey," said Ailis. "However, I do not wish to speak of this at the moment. Tell me, what news you have heard in recent months."

"News doesn't often pass our way," said Padern. "Once again you'll have to turn your way to Teirm, if you wish to know of the tidings."

For a long time Rose sat bored, tapping her fingers against the skirt of her dress, wishing to be dismissed. But the exchange went on, they discussed many things; subjects Ailis had spoken, to Rose and Tornac, of before; how the Padern's farm and family was fairing; how most of the men that worked the land on the farm had been quick in their depart that morning in pursuit of the horses. Those men were also quick to voice their fear that horses might form an abscess on one of their hoofs, or consume a unnecessary amount greens of the lands causing them to suffer colic, which was Ailis had told Rose a gut-twisting disease that could be fatal, but also they feared that the horses could become prey from the many predators that roomed these lands. Rose had fought back a smile at this; there was nothing more fearsome of predator than Thorn. The thought of Thorn twisted her stomach in a worried knot. She had not heard from him as of yet, as she thought she would, and she wondered how he was fairing.

"You are looking awfully pale, dear," Voirrey said, turning to Rose. "Are you feeling well?"

Pausing, she considered her answer. She did not feel unwell, but Voirrey, Rose noticed, was merely giving her an opportunity to leave to room if she wished. "No, I suppose I do not," she said slowly. "Perhaps, it would be best if got some fresh air." She then excused herself, and walked out of the room toward the gardens, where she spent the rest of the afternoon sitting silently under an oak, reading the book she had borrowed from the Library silently among the swaying grasses.

)(.().)(

For the next few days life had went by slow in a monotonous daze. Rose woke early every morning, refreshed and walked downstairs to breakfast. After a light meal, as she had taken to avoiding people and there was little she could think to do, Rose borrowed a book from the library then wandered the grounds restlessly until she found a peaceful place of her liking. Many places in the gardens tickled her fancy, and she lazed peacefully in only a few of them, either thinking or reading. She thought about many things, unconnected images and words, ideas and histories, actions that ought to be pursued and preparations that were to be done, until the clinging of the small evening bell interrupted the soft flow of words. Then she would return to the house for dinner and retire to her room, or spend the evening with Tornac or Ailis before toiling over a large blanket made of sheepskin covered by a thick layer of wool. She had spent only a few nights laboring over a large scrap of sheepskin until the dark hours of night.

On the seventh day, Ailis found Rose by a synthetic pond, filled with tiny striped turtles whose head bobbed curiously in and out of the water, and little black fish that swirled beneath its inky surface. "It's peaceful here," she said sitting beside her. Ailis was silent for a few moments, listening to the water trickling from the fountain into the pond and the chirping of birds.

"It is," Rose agreed, after some time.

"Do you wish to talk about what is troubling you?"

"Not at this moment." Rose looked up from her book.

Ailis sighed heavily. "The men have found and returned Shadowless and Lanorgrim, along with three of Padern's steeds," she said. "As Lanorgrim has returned in a fair state, I plan on leaving at first light tomorrow for Teirm. Otherwise we might be waiting here for ages, and I am finding myself chafing at this delay." She let the sentence trail off.

"May you have a safe trip," said Rose bleakly.

Ailis pressed her lips together in a fine line. "Talk to Tornac," she said, standing up. "He's worried about you."

"I will," Rose promised.

Ailis looked down at her, and hastily turned away leaving Rose alone with her book, which she immediately returned to.

Later that day, Thorn had, at last, flown close enough to the farm house for them to talk. Frightening as it was, Rose told him of the sheepskin blanket she had acquired and what she wished to do with it, and after a lengthy discussion on all that had passed, they came to an agreement.

_I am glad you put forth so much thought onto this, _Thorn said, _but I cannot say that I agree with you._

Rose huffed at the ground. _What else am I to do? _she demanded. _Should I continue to sit here reading about some matter that does not concern me? I tire of sitting and doing nothing, as I have done all of my life. The answers I seek shall not come to me delivered on a silver platter, I have to seek for them. _She smiled humorlessly and added. _Dragon Riders were not called such, by standing beside their dragon twiddling their thumbs, waiting for a deed to complete itself._

She felt him humored agreement roll through her mind. _Here we will meet, _he sent her mental picture of a vale and the path she might take to get there,_ when the sun is, again, in the middle of the sky. Then we will do as you wish._ With that said, Thorn flew too far away from them to talk. Rose returned hesitantly to her book, with shaking fingers and a spinning head.

That night as the sun waned, Rose grabbed the shoulder pack from the small pile of bags, and turned it over. First, came out a small plain wooden box, which she kept a few pieces of jewelry wrapped, she unwrapped them from their silk casing and set them down in front of her; two silver combs with pearls set into them, a exquisitely wrought golden ring with a crimson stone, a thistle shaped brooch, and a bracelet with a piece of green string stuck between the clasps that held a strange banded stone. She put various other items next to the trinkets: a pen and a small pad of paper, a blue ink well, a beautifully illuminated book of poems wrapped in oilskin, a battered carving of a roe deer, and a thick volume. These were all that was left of her life in Urû'baen, it seemed pitifully little after the years spent in the capital city, a regret and a relief.

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts. Then she put the items into the same saddlebag which she kept her viol. It took time for her to repack the shoulder bag, but by the time she was done she had a healthy supply of all that she would need. Picking a pear out of the bowl on the table, she stepped to the window seat, and sat down in the shading of the night, watching the stars as they twinkled high above in the sky.


	28. Chapter 17

_________I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
I'll let you know that I wanted to continue and make this chapter longer, but my brother asked me to end it where it is, and because I've kinda been ignoring him with the last few chapters I gave in.  
Enjoy, and if you take a moment tell me what you think,_

* * *

**A Journey**

The following morning, she tiredly got dressed, in a pair traveling clothes, and after lacing up her boots she hastily brushed through her hair which she hid under a widely brimmed hat, she swung her pack onto her back. Rose picked up an undyed woolen cap and a folded piece of thick paper from off a table, and after slipping the cap into her bag, she walked out of her chamber towards the room where Tornac was staying. She stood outside of Tornac's chamber for a very long moment, debating whether or not to knock and talk to him, eventually she slipped the paper under the gap of his door and quickly stepped away, feeling rather cowardly as she descended the stairway.

Downstairs, she went through a huge flagged kitchen dominated by a long, scrubbed wooden table. Copper and iron pots dangled from hooked racks suspended from the ceiling, and the walls were lined with jars filled with seeds and oils and flours, and rows of fruit and vegetables, and herbs and spices hung from small hooks. Against one wall was a huge health and next to it was a black iron stove. The women preparing the morning meal looked at her curiously, but Rose ignored them and asked the woman, who she thought to be in charge of the kitchen, for some fresh bread and cheeses and berries and slices of cold meat. The woman glanced at her questioningly but wordlessly nodded her round head, and made for the pantry, when she came back she handed the neatly wrapped packages to Rose, and turned back to her work. Rose shoved the food into her bag, along with a full canteen of water. She looked around for a simple breakfast, and after grabbing an apple from the table, Rose exited the kitchen through a tiny roofed line into the courtyard, into the woodland behind it.

.

As the sun slipped higher into the sky, Rose looked uneasily behind her, pulling at the constricting straps of her pack, it didn't feel nearly as heavy as she feared it might when she had packed it. Seeing nothing but plant life; lilac bushes that grew in clumps, currant vines, wild berries and deciduous climbing flowers of many colors grew in tingled clusters under the trees, she walked on. The sky was a very clear blue with very little moisture to it, good weather for walking. The walking emptied Rose's mind of everything that troubled her. She entered the rhythms of her body letting her arms swing and her legs push her forward, at times she wiped her brow or took a swig from her water bottle. She was wearing flax trousers and a light tunic, and she was even wearing a straw brimmed hat on her to prevent the heat from baking her face, but even so the sweat ran down her back in gullies and she was sure her face was puce. The dampened heat didn't allow her think about her future or her fears or the reason she was out there, though these lingered in the shadows of her mind.

Rose stopped in a small low grassed clearing, and swung the pack from her back. Putting the pack down, she untied the sheepskin roll that hung down and placed the fleece on the ground. She sat down next to it, resting her pack on top of her lap and waited, spinning a piece of grass between her fingers. She did not have to wait long, because soon she felt the familiar intelligence press against her own, Rose looked up at him and allowed Thorn into her mind. Above she could hear the cadenced thump of his wings as they beat against the air. _Are you ready?_ Thorn asked.

_I have to be._ Rose bit her lip, and added nervously, _Hurry down, Thorn, before I change my mind._

Thorn answered by quickly diving out of the sky and landing smoothly in front of her. _I hurried,_ he said, his tail pounding contently against the ground. _Have you changed your mind?_

She scowled at him. _I have not,_ said she getting onto her feet. _I still believe this to be foolishness._

_It is as you said when we last spoke-_

"There is no need to remind me." She jumped, realizing that she had spoken aloud. "I know my reasons."

Rose took her pack and the roll of sheepskin from off the ground, then walked to Thorn. With trembling hands she shook out the sheepskin and set it over the dip near the base of his neck. He snaked his head around and watched her with his red eye as she straightened the worn sheepskin blanket. Once the sheepskin was arranged so that two looped coils of robe hung off down his sides equally, she crawled under his torso and slipped the loops around his broad legs which she tied together with a length of rope she drew from her bag. Thorn blinked at the skins. _It will due_, he said, spreading his wings in sudden flourish, and Rose despite herself stepped back.

Calming herself, Rose considered the sheepskin for a moment, as thick as the sheepskin was she doubted it would last long against the sharp edges of Thorn's scales. "I hope so," said she almost to herself, "else my skin shall soon be in tatters."

With a disheartened sigh, she grabbed a firm hold of one of the spikes that ran down Thorn's spine, and awkwardly leapt onto his back. Rose nearly went over the top and fell, but Thorn shifted himself and this allowed her to uneasily balance herself before she could slip off. _You're too far forward, _he said swinging his head around to look at her, _maybe if you sit back you won't fall._ Rose nodded and leaned back as Thorn advised, this caused her to roll off of him and onto the ground below. Thorn looked down at her, his eye glinting with humor, and she blinked at him dazedly. _Are you hurt?_ he asked laughingly.

"I'm fine, no thanks to you," she said, rubbing her arm. She was confident that she was going to have a few new bruises by the time this trip was over.

Thorn's bulky chest grumbled, in a way that made Rose think him to be laughing at her. Ignoring his humor, she stood up and attempted again at mounting for the second time, this time she didn't jump high enough and ended up hanging over his back on her stomach, like a sack of grain, she slid off and landed next to him on her feet. On her third try she jumped too high and missed his back completely, landing on the other side of Thorn on her back. When she finally landed on his back, again, it was only because Thorn lowered himself as much as he could to the ground for her to do so, and she gripped firmly onto the pointed spine in front of her so that she was almost laying across his spine. As she cautiously scooted forward, until she was cozily positioned, Thorn stood up. She looked down and nearly swore. Thorn hadn't seemed to up so high before, but now she atop a creature who was suddenly as tall as an oak tree! She bit her lip to keep her from shouting and leaned forward, clutching tightly onto his spine which was smooth and her hands where unexpectedly slick with sudden worry.

_Are we to go, now?_ Thorn asked.

Rose drew in a deep breath. _For now, if you don't mind, I ask that you simply walk,_ she told him through their mind-touch, not trusting her voice.

Thorn winded his head to glance at her but whatever emotion he felt or saw he kept well hidden from her, and after a short moment he looked away. He said nothing as he lively walked around the valley, his Rider bouncing along, holding firmly onto one of his white spines. When he made a full circle, he looked back at Rose again and stretched out his wings.

_Now,_ he said, _we fly._

_Thorn! Don't-wait!_ she protested, but it was too late as he already bound into the air, his winging beating the air as they took them higher and higher. Rose looked around wildly and, after tearing the hat from her head, and shoving it underneath her bottom so that it would not fly away, she clamped her eyes shut.

_It is too late,_ Thorn said, after a time. _Open your eyes, little one, and see._

Fearfully, Rose forced open her eyes and stared at the landscape beneath her. For a long time she didn't recognize it as a landscape, it looked like a strange and awesome painting. In the distance a sinking sun lit up the western sea, the water flamed like a molten gold, and in the east jagged mountains climbed dangerously into the sky. They were very high up, in the upper regions of air, and she could see very far, and there were no clouds at all only a shadow moving over the earth which she recognized as being Thorn's.

_It's, _Rose began to say then paused unable to find the correct word. _That is_ _quite a view._

_This I know,_ Thorn replied, his wings thumping loudly on the air, as he kept them unmoving above the land. _When I am higher it is better but I will not take you any higher. I fear you might start to feel ill._

Rose blinked slowly in annoyance. _Thank you for thinking so strongly of me._

Thorn snorted in amusement. _Being up too high makes me unwell, and I assume that it will be the same for you,_ he said.

_How high have you gone?_ said she, as Thorn began to move them forward.

He began a vibrating hum beneath her. _Very high,_ he told her, _high enough, where I was above the clouds. The breathing was hard and thin there._

Rose twisted her hands around the spike and looked at the blue of the sky, after a moment she closed her eyes. _It's bad enough up here,_ she said. _Forgive me, Thorn, I very glad you enjoy your flying but I'll be much happier when I'm once again safely on the ground._

_You are no where safer than where you are now,_ said he after a long moment.

Rose opened her eyes and scowled. _I don't doubt you think so._ She looked to the south and saw the winding valley not far in the distance. For the first time she thought she understood why it was called the Serpent's Vale, from so high those leaning stones below entwining from the across the hilled plains. _I wonder if they were placed to __seem this way, _she mussed to Thorn, _like __tiny colorless snakes_ _slithering across the land._

Thorn grumbled through their mental link and dived sharply at the ground causing Rose to yelp with surprise and nearly loss her grip on his spine. Feeling herself slipping, she tightened her grip by digging her knees after far as she could into Thorn's chest. The ground below grew closer and closer, and the wind blasted against her, and she closing her eyes leaning close to his thick gleaming neck beside his ivory spines. After a moment she began to relax as the blasts of cooled air tangled her hair but the moment was fleeting as Thorn's wings flared out and they were lifted in the sky, jolting her enough that her teeth to chattered together, and she nearly fell from his back.

_Never_, Rose told him sternly; when she was able to speak again as the fright of his sudden actions caused her momentary forget how to think, _never do that again._

_It is good practice, _Thorn said.

_Practice for what? Frightening me to death? You just about did!_

_No, however if we were to be attacked, _he reasoned, _and I was forced to dive, you should know how not to fall off._

_I don't care if The King himself is behind us trying to blast us from the sky, do _not_ do that again._

Thorn grumbled a laugh, and returned to his former height.

.

After the dive, Thorn flew gentler in his flying with Rose, and after a time she began to relax, finding herself able to loosen her rigid grip on his spike. They remained in the air, save for a few short moments when Rose asked Thorn to land so that she could get her jerkin out of the bag as it was chilled up in the sky, and thrust the crumpled straw hat inside the sack, but after that they returned to the skies until the sun dipped below the horizon.

As Rose made camp in a large circling of toppling stones, Thorn lay coiled near a tall clump of briars close by. Carved into the granite were two signs, she examined the carvings curiously, they looked very much like a set of runes she had been forced to learn in her childhood through she could not recall what they might read. She looked away after a moment and began to build a fire, it was unnecessary Rose knew but she didn't fancy a night spent in the blackness of night. When the flames leapt up in that dark valley, she sat on one of the tipped over stones. "It's so much quicker to fly," she said. "What had taken over five days of travel, we have just completed in mere hours. How bored you must get waiting for us. What is it that you do with all your time?" Rose looked over at Thorn.

_I hunt,_ he said.

"It's no wonder you're so big!" she exclaimed, widening her eyes at him as he began to thump his tail in amusement.

_I chase the creatures but if my stomach is not craving for meat I do not kill unnecessarily._

Rose nodded and looked into the fire. After a long time she got the food out of her pack and cooked a light meal, pieces of meat that were cooked on a heated stone and some fruits. Then she lay down on the sheepskins, as she had left her sleeping roll at the farmhouse, and swiftly feel asleep.

.

Late in the afternoon that next day they reached the wide meads near Teirm, which was rising tall and white out of the fields. The citadel flung up, battlemented wall within battlemented wall, and its high towers thrust into the sky gracefully and proud. Below the road pushed steady uphill, past meadow of rich grass growing in wide terraces, which were often divided by brown streams and treed with fine strands of lofty pines or elms. Occasionally they could see the Toark River winding many miles to the south, glittering in the sun.

By the time they drew close to the walls of Teirm, in the evening, a dark band of clouds had spend over most of the sky and a chill wind was blowing, threatening to cast Thorn from of the sky. The light dimmed as the clouds ate up the sun.

Thorn tussled his way through the wind to a sea cliff not far the city. He was looking for something, but what Rose did not know, then after a time he suddenly fold his wings back, and brought them into a wild dive straight through a scarcely visible hole far above the rolling sea. A dozen feet below waves stumbled the shoreline, a littoral of black rocks shining, dimly wet.

They had found the cave in the nick of time. As they entered, a deafening clap of thunder broke over their heads, heralding the storm's first heavy drops. Inside it smelled fusty and close. Thorn landed roughly, throwing Rose from his back and rolling onto the sandy floor where the cave bent. When she sat up, she blinked wobbly at Thorn, she could still see the mouth of cave, a circle of surreal light veiled Thorn. "That was unpleasant," she said, "if I were to put it mildly."

To her surprise, Thorn did not react. He collapsed heavily onto the ground where he landed and stayed there. After a short moment Rose inquired after him, and only after the second time did he respond. _My wings ache me_, he said, _and my head feels unwell._

She looked at him concerned, then stood up and began to tie the knots that held the sheepskins to his back. She left the ropes where they were, but tossed the skins to the side. "Any better?" she asked.

_No_, he said. _I am tired. I'm going to sleep this off. _Then, with a disconcerting swiftness she had never witnessed before, Thorn lay his head down and fell asleep instantly.

Rose lay down, spread out on the sheepskins, and listened to the rain and thunder and waves. The sound was oddly comforting, even laying in a cold cave in middle a cliff, where the only way to get out alive was by dragon back. For a time she studied the storm outside, watching as the black waves below roll and crash into the rocks, as lighting shoot fiercely across the sky, as leaves blew down from the treetops high above and into the spinning water. That night she got very little sleep and when she did it was of a restless sort, as she spent it laying on the sheepskin, tracing over it charred edges with shaking fingers. Her mind was racing with many thoughts.


	29. Side Story 12

_________________________I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.  
A sidestory. Rose is around 13, and Ilbert is a year older than she is.__________________________  
Enjoy,_

* * *

_Wooden Swords and Lace Slippers_

Rose thought she was well hidden, crouched behind one the stout willow trees that lined the training yard, watching an old man couch a group of boys as they fought against each other with wooden swords. Had she of known that Mil the old swordmaster, who was overseeing a group young boys and apprentices, had been watching her since the moment she came, Rose might had had the better sense to leave and go back to the music rooms to finish her lesson with the bard Bardge.

"I'll be leaving you scoundrels for a while," the swordmaster said to his students after a time. "If I find that any of you have been lazing away while I'm gone, a price will be will be extracted. Don't think I won't notice, I will. That includes you, Aneirin," he said, turning a fierce gaze onto a young man.

The imp-faced Aneirin looked away from his partner, this earned him a sharp whack on the shoulder from his partner's wooden sword, and nodded seriously. As Mil turned away, the boy winked slyly at his partner in front of him. Rose was certain Mil saw this, but he gave no sign as he walked out of the clearing towards the stables.

That day was gray with cloud cover and far more humid than any spring day had the right to be. Rose wiped the damp hair from her face and watched as the boys in the clearing continue their practice, taking a simple pleasure in the sounds of wooden swords thwacking together and the unflattering grunts of the boys as the toiled. She was still spying when Mil swept down her.

"What are you doing here?" he demanded, holding her by the back of the neck, dragging her out onto the training ground. When she squirmed under his calloused hands, he shook her until her teeth chattered. "Answer!"

Most of the boys had stopped their practice and was now watching their teacher with ample eyes."Might want to put her down, sir," one of the older boys said, as he swung his sword to his side. "That's Muirgheal, the Lord Morzan's daughter."

Mil set her down rather roughly, but didn't let go of her neck. "Are you?" he said, he raised his eyebrows, "Well?"

"Y-yes," she answered, "I am."

He released his grip on her and stepped back quickly, nearly stumbling over a discarded weapon. "Well, then." He took a breath and looked nervously at his students who were watching him rather intensely. "What are you doing here?" he repeated in a kinder tone.

Rose shifted and lifted her chin stubbornly. Mil wasn't shying away out his fear of her but because of the memory of her father, she knew this, it has happened many times before. She opened her mouth and shut it, looking carefully at Ilbert from across the clearing, his eyes met her own and he nodded.

"That would be my fault, sir," Ilbert said. "I had asked Muirgheal to meet me here after lessons."

"Well, then," the old swordmaster said to the area at large, "seeing as young master Ilbert sees it fit to invite a girl along to a swords lesson, I cannot see why he should not be the one to return her to the castlekeep and perhaps it be best he join her in medicine and perfume making." The boys snickered. "Go on, young master, perfumes do not craft theirselves," Mil said watching as Ilbert's face reddened.

Ilbert tightened his grip on the practice sword and walked through the crowd of mocking boys to Rose with an annoyed huff, grabbing her by her wrist as he went by, and marched onto the path back to castle. Ilbert walked quickly and angrily, panting and grumbling the whole way. Rose walked remorsefully behind, glancing warily at the back of Ilbert's head.

When they reached a familiar tunnel of leafy vines and twisting wood, she was truly beginning to hate his unbending back and the loud pounding of his shoes as the stomped down the paved path. Ilbert came to a stop close to the end of the tunnel, where it opened into a round clearing with the early flowers of spring fencing it, there was a large pale stoned fountain that bubbled in the center. There was evidence of their meeting in this place before; a broken spinning top sticking out of the dirt close to the flowering stems, a pair of lace slippers that hung hidden from view on the brass structure in the middle of the fountain, a beheaded toy soldier that hung high in the overhand of the tree by a fraying ribbon; most of these things would go unnoticed had she not known they where there.

Ilbert turned towards her, his undisciplined hair framed his scowling face in a mass of curls. "Why didn't you defend yourself?"

Rose shrugged and walked to the fountain's edge, which she sat down on. "I didn't see a reason to do so," she said.

"I saw plenty of reasons to," Ilbert said angrily. "He assaulted you and then proceeded to insult you." He didn't say, _and he insulted me_, but she knew he wished to. "Is that not a reason to defend yourself?"

Rose glared at him. "You might have forgotten, Ilbert, but I'm a girl. I have no right to defend myself." She spoke bitterly and with disgust.

Ilbert's eyes widened in surprise, he turned and looked down the tunnel then back at her. "What's wrong with you today?"

"I was ambushed by the ever fine Lord Lakan," Rose said spinning a loose thread from her sleeve angrily around her finger. "He was very kind to remind me that I will soon be of marrying age and how very unsuitable my position is-" She stopped herself from saying more and looked up irritably. "The man's a prig, and I shan't envy the poor woman who weds him."

"A 'prig'?" Ilbert snickered. "That's a very kind word to use to describe him." Rose scowled at him, and his grin faded. "What else did he say?"

Rose crossed her arms and turned away, looking at the peeling blue paint at the bottom of the fountain. "When were you planning on telling me you were leaving Urû'baen?" She demanded, jumping as she felt Ilbert put his hand on her shoulder.

"I was going to tell you," he said as he sat down beside her, his wooden sword clattering to the ground beside him, "just not today. It's not to happen for a few months, and with everything that has been going on, I thought it was best not to burden you."

"Oh, yes," she retorted crossly, "Lord Laken was very kind to remind me of that as well."

"Speaking of which," said Ilbert looking around, as if he would spot someone hiding nearby in a bush. "Where is Tornac? I recall him swearing not to let you out of his sight until this threat had passed."

Rose bit her lip nervously and looked down at her slippers, taking a sudden interest in how the dark silk shone from the sunlight that escaped the overcast. "He's probably in the castle in search of me," she said. "I would think that by now he sent out a number of guards to join his hunt."

Ilbert began whistle tunefully at the tree above them, and Rose listened as a bird chirped back at him. "You won't have to worry about my leaving," said he after a long moment.

She looked up at him. "Why is that?"

"Chances are very high," Ilbert said, "that Cordelia will kill you before then."

Rose began to laugh so hard she nearly fell into the fountain. "What a relief it is," she exclaimed, "that we, at last, know who the assassins, pardon me, the assassin is." Taking a deep breath to compose herself, Rose wiped the tears from her eyes. "Forgive me, Ilbert, but I highly doubt Cordelia is a threat to me, or anything else for that matter. I am far more worried about what Tornac will do."

Ilbert began to laugh. "Honestly, Rosie?" he said between spurts of laughter. "You are speaking of Tornac, the very same man who rescued that kitten from a tree a month ago, and nearly broke his leg when he fell, smiling like an idiot the whole while."

"I remember," Rose said, twisting her face in detest. "I also remember have a nasty rash on my arms and hands from carrying that very same kitten inside the castle to your parents apartments, as you had become Tornac's living crutch and you sister was fearful that she might get fleas if she touched it." She sighed. "You have always been in Tornac's favor, Ilbert, and so you have never seen him angry but his wrath compares to that of a wight."

Ilbert didn't answer, instead he frowned looked away into the brushes. "If you say so," he said doubtfully. "Did I tell you that, Da has decided to let us keep Willo?"

"Who is Willo?" She tilted her head to the side. "The cat?"

"Willo is what Ilona wished to name her, in honor of the willow tree we found her in." Ilbert said looking into the brush again for a time. "Rosie, I think it would be best if we went inside."

Rose made a face. "I've been trapped inside that castle for over a week. I believe I'm beginning to lose what is left of my sanity, so please, I'd rather stay out here," she said leaning back on her palms.

Leaning forward, Ilbert grasped her wrist gently. "Rose," he whispered, "there is someone watching us from behind that bush. Don't look."

She looked and Ilbert yanked her hand from under her, tipping her onto his lap. She looked up at him furiously, but he put a finger to his lips. "What are you doing?" she whispered. "The scandalous rumors you are causing are unneeded."

"Don't talk," he said, pushing her onto the ground. "I was serious when I said that someone is watching us."

"It was probably a squirrel."

He frowned at her. "Squirrels don't carry knives. Don't you say that I only saw a silver kernel, either."

"If there's someone watching us, they might just be a kernel."

His lips twitched into a small smile, and he slid down beside her, fingering for the handle of his practice sword. "This might not be the best time for a joke," he said softly. "Let's go. Quickly."

Rose nodded suddenly serious and stood up. Ilbert stood also, with his wooden sword in hand, not a moment after she had, and lead the way back through the leafy tunnel.

The sound of a heavy boot crunching leaves made her look back. There was someone there behind those brushes and that person did, indeed, have knives. Very long knives, that shimmered evilly in the light. The slim man met her gaze and smiled, it chilled her to the bones. He took a quick step towards them, there was a garrote dangling from his belt.

"Ilbert," said Rose urgently grabbing his hand, which he automatically shook off. "Let's go!"

Ilbert looked back at the man and swore violently, causing Rose to blush from his inappropriate language. He tightened his grip on his wooden sword and grabbed at her hand before breaking into a run. Rose struggled to keep pace behind him, slowed by the heavy skirts of her dress and the slick soles of her slippers.

_It is no wonder men are always the heroes in tales,_ she thought,_ they don't have skirts weighing them down. Get a knight in a dress and see how he fairs, I am willing to bet he will be the one who is in need saving and not the lady._

She immediately glanced behind her and gathered the skirts of her dress into her hands.

The man behind them was quick, he had nearly managed to catch up with them. Rose yelped and quickened her pace when she saw the man's gloved hand reach out towards her. She was not quick enough, he closed his arms tight around her, painfully ripping her grip from Ilbert's, pinning her arms to her sides, his back against her front. She screamed and kicked and squirmed, but it was useless as he held her such a way that it was difficult to do any damage. At the sound of her scream, Ilbert spun around with a shout, lifting his practice sword. The assassin lifted her and stepped back, somehow kicking the wooden sword from Ilbert's hands with enough force to knocking them all over.

She hit the ground hard, white dots danced in front of her eyes and she felt a strange wetness dripping down her head but she did not feel any pain. She blinked twice to clear her head then rolled away from the man beside her. The assassin was on top of her, before she could move very far. Grabbing a fistful of her hair, he yanked her head back and slipped the strangle cord around her neck. As he pulled back the cord to tighten it, Rose slipped her hand between the cord and her neck, as Tornac had advised to do over the past weeks, the cord stung her hand as it cut into her skin.

She hadn't noticed Ilbert, and neither had the assassin, as he wobbly walked towards them and bashed the wooden sword into the back of the man's neck along his spine. The man limply fell on top of Rose, causing her to scream. Ilbert dragged him off of her and pulled her up by her arms, ripping away the cord.

"Is he died?" she breathed, looking down at the man. She was shaking so hard she could hardly manage to stand.

"I'd rather we didn't find out." Ilbert looked around and Rose looked at him. His face was pale and damp, his lip bloodied and swelling.

Ilbert let go of her and grabbed a discarded knife close to the assassin. He nodded weakly and began to walk hurriedly towards the castle, covering his mouth and hunching over as he began to cough.

Rose glanced at man once more. He had been sent to kill her and she hated him for it, but she pitied him as well. For what reason had his life turned so tremendously that he thought it was his right to kill a young girl? She glared at his face angrily willing her mind to remember each detail. Then as he began to stir she turned away and ran after Ilbert.

She could hear shouts ahead of them and the familiar sounds of men, and it wasn't long until she saw the guard Ivar running alongside Tornac. Rose glanced back at the assassin in the distance. He was now standing, swaying side to side, watching her closely with heated eyes. She looked back at Tornac. Tornac eyes met her own, his were both furious and relieved, and she thought that perhaps she best turn around and take her chances with her alleged killer.


	30. Side Story 13

_____________________________I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.  
Sometimes I hate my brain for coming up with these silly things, demanding that I write them when I'm trying to focus on an actual chapter. I needed to get into the head of Tornac a little more than what I have, so yeah. Tornac is a peacekeeper, this was always my thought for him. He's not easy to rile, well, he not easy to have his anger show. Everything is mostly in his head and even then its held back, he had a lifetime a learning to control himself. CP may disagree with me, but complete self control is not something you learn within months it takes years, and many of them at that. But I could go on and on about how I disgree with the books and the issues it has, and I have with it...  
This taked place after the last sidestory- Wooden Swords and Lace Slippers.  
Enjoy,_

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_Accurately_

"Foolishness!" Cordelia scolded. "What were you thinking, Muirgheal? Running off in that manner? Do you have any sense all?"

Tornac fought back a smirk, focusing instead on cleaning his blade with a scrap of cloth. He could hear, though he was not looking, Rose's protects at having to sit down when she so obviously in a distraught state, and Cordelia loud fretting.

"I have plenty sense. Oh!" the girl exclaimed loudly, causing Tornac to look up. Rose was seated across the room in a plush chair and Cordelia stood bent in front of her, fussing over the cut on Rose's cheek. "That hurts."

"Serves you right, I say," barked Cordelia. "Sneaking around and spying in dangerous times is not the life for a girl."

"Are you saying that it is perfectly fine to do such in less dangerous times?" replied Rose, despite the event of the day and her shaken state, her dark eyes were gleaming mischievously.

Tornac turned away, he had a very strong feeling that she had picked up some of her cheek from him, and was using it solely to hassle her nursemaid. He made a quick mental note to talk with Rose about disrespecting Cordelia, it was not a conversion he looked forward to having. Not at all.

"Do not play me for a fool, young lady," Cordelia said, over Ilbert's hastily covered laughter. Ilbert was sitting on a low bowed couch close to the fire, a wooden sword propped against his leg, and the nursemaid turned to him, angrily, "And, you, young man, should not be making this worse on yourself. Requesting Muirgheal's presence at the sparring fields, when you know very well of the situation at hand. Shame on you." Tornac glanced up at the children, they were shifting uneasily on the cushions. Rose met his eyes for moment then looked down shamefully. Thank the gods that she had the common sense to look guilty.  
"Shame of both of you," Cordelia continued. "Muirgheal should be making her debut in the Courts, as she knows perfectly well, attending balls and dinner parties. Readying herself for finding a good husband and having darling little babies."

Rose visibly cringed, and Tornac could not blame her. It had taken all of his willpower and years of instruction on discipline, not to cringe himself. "She is far too young to be catching husbands, as of yet, Cordelia," said Tornac, speaking for the first time since escorting the children into the sitting room.

"Lady Carys is engaged to wed within a month's time, and she is not much older than Muirgheal is now," said the nursemaid dismissing Tornac's objection.

"I do not wish to be married or to children," Rose said in a shaky voice, looking desperately at Ilbert but the boy paled considerably and shook his head, not wanting to be involved. She turned back to Cordelia. "Honestly, Cordelia, I'm only thirteen years of age! I have years and years to do those things. A lifetime. Do not haul me over the coals, yet."

Cordelia's shoulder's dropped, and she gave Rose a piercing look. "Have you hit your head too hard? What would make you possibly think that I would 'haul you over coals', as you say? I am not asking you to do much, Muirgheal, merely to act as you should."

"Oh and how should I act?" replied Rose heatedly. "Should I curtsy and giggle at to each man I see? Like some loose brained ninny? I wish to have nothing to do with the Courts." She stood up, nearly knocking into Cordelia. "You have no right to belittle me, I know what I did was wrong and I could have been killed or worse. I know that! And, please, do not call me 'Muirgheal', Cordelia," she said her face twisting with aversion as she said her name.

"Give me a decent reason why I should not?" the nursemaid said, rising to her full height as well, to look down at the girl.

Rose set her chin stubbornly, and glared up at Cordelia. Not far from her, Ilbert flinched probably wondering why he was still there and began to finger the hem of his bloodied sleeve to occupy himself.

Tornac closed his eyes and rubbed his face. He was tired, and did not wish to deal with this today. There would plenty of it the next day and the day after, he would have more of his fill then, he was sure.

They were often at odds, Rose and Cordelia, but for what reason Tornac did not know. He had thought for a time that it was Codelia's apparent dislike for the child, until he witnessed the nursemaid comforting the child, not many years ago, after she had stumbled and cut herself on the stone flooring. After that moment, Tornac began to wonder if Rose was being the difficult one, but that also was proved wrong. Now he did not know, perhaps they simply were the sort of people who were continually in conflict with each other, who would never be able to see eye to eye. It seemed all too likely.

"That is enough," Tornac said, in a much calmer voice than he felt. "Cordelia, please, excuse yourself and escort Ilbert to his parent's apartments. I believe both he and Rose have had a sufficient amount of excitement for one day-" he slid his sword into his casing "-and are in need of rest."

Cordelia looked at Tornac crossly, then bowed her head. "Come along, master Ilbert," she said briskly as she exited the room, Ilbert following closely behind her.

The look he shot at Rose and the smile she gave in return was not unnoticed by Tornac.

"Gamon, go with them," Tornac said turning to the guards at the door. "The rest of you stay as you are, if you please." He sternly turned to Rose who was wringing her hands anxiously. "Sit down, Rose."

She sat down very quickly, nearly missing the chair in her haste.

Tornac studied her for a long moment, collecting his thoughts. He looked over her rumpled gown, the crooked, scoffed ribbon wrapped around her hair. Her face was flushed with anger, and her eyes were shining with tears. She was missing a slipper, but he doubted she noticed.

He felt his anger rise, though not all of it was directed at her or her choices, and he took a deep breath through his nose to calm himself as his grandfather had thought him to. It didn't work, it never had.

"Tell me," he said in a hard, even voice that sounded to him very much like his grandfather's, "why you had ran off."

Tornac watched her as she shifted in her seat and bit her lip. Waiting for her to speak, he decided that he would have to break her of that particular habit before too long.

"I-I…I…" she trailed off and swallowed, cowering slightly under his stare.

Holding up his hand to stop her, he sighed. "Think of what you have to say through before you go any further," he said. When she didn't say anything, he said, "Alright, then, tell me why you didn't met with Bardge, as you and I both know you should have been."

She shifted in her seat and looked down at her hands. "I was upset and I needed to speak with Ilbert," she said slowly pausing after each word.

Tornac took another deep breath. "Why did you need to speak with Ilbert?"

She hesitated, then shifted in her seat and looked at him. "Lord Lakan surprised me in the halls on my way to see Bardge, and he said these-" she paused and gestured roughly at air with her hands, "-these things. He wasn't very polite in his way, either. What he said upset me a lot, and I _had_ to get away from him, and the guards, and castle. I just had to. I couldn't take being trapping inside here like some prisoner any longer, and so I went to find Ilbert."

"And after you found him?"

"His swordsmaster saw me and questioned me as to why I there," said Rose, closing her eyes. "Ilbert lied and told him he had asked me to meet him. We left the training grounds and headed to the castle. On our way back that man attacked us and Ilbert hit him with one of those wooden swords so that we could get away. When the man fell, we ran and you found us."

Tornac nodded. He remembered that he had found them running down the path, but not the one that lead from training field. Ilbert had been wheezing, close to having another of his fits, and was holding hands with Rose. Tornac made a face at the memory.

After seeing the children Tornac had run ahead of the guards, worried that the children were hurt, when glint of light caught his eyes. For the first time Tornac looked past them at a tall, supple man, who had held a silver throwing knife close to his shoulder, and he had nearly cursed. The man was ready to fling that knife across the gardens. What puzzled Tornac, though only for a moment, was that his other hand had been cradled the back of his neck, and was dripping with blood, now Tornac knew that that must have been the place where Ilbert hit him with those ridiculous practice swords. The man, the assassin, swept his gaze from the children to the guards and before resting on Tornac. Tornac remembered his eyes, they were dark and empty, void of any emotion. The man smirked foully at him, revealing his yellow and chipped teeth, and he threw the knife.

Tornac had yelled something, what he did remember only that his words caused Ilbert to drop heavily to the ground, pulling Rose along with him. A mere instant after they hit the ground, the knife somersaulted over their heads and tumbled onto the cobble stone path mere feet away from them. As Tornac got closer, though it was far too far away for his liking, Rose glanced up at him then over her shoulder. Ilbert hissed something at her, blessing her with enough sense to turn away and whisper something back. Tornac saw Ilbert scowl at her then drag himself and her off the path and into the bushes. Tornac noticed with relief that Ilbert had released her hand and turned his head away from her, holding a knife protectively close to his chest.

The assassin then had shouted something at him, or the guards, but more than likely he was addressing Rose. It hardly mattered because Tornac wasn't listening, but whatever the man had said was upsetting, as Rose bit her lip and huddled closer to the ground. Tornac was then focusing all his energy to getting the children so to get them away to safety, but he hadn't the need to do so as the man was died or dying he was not sure. When Tornac reached the children, as last, he had quickly ordered them to get up and ran with them towards the castle and the safety that was bound to recede inside it, and up into that sitting room. Moments after the children had settled and calmed, Cordelia had arrived and fussed over Rose, which riled the girl even more, almost ignoring Ilbert completely.

"Is there anything more you wish to say?" He asked returning his attention to his conversation with Rose. She shook her head, her lips pressed firmly together. Of course there was more. "You do realize you are in a great deal of trouble?"

"I do," she said despondently, looking down at the ground. "But, at least, the assassin is died, and the threat has left with him."

"I highly doubt that," he said. "We best get you to your chambers, so that you can clean yourself up."

Her eyes widened. "It's not gone? But the man is died!"

"One assassin, out of many, is died," he said with a sigh. "The threat on your life will not pass for a long while."

"Or I'm died," she said darkly.

Tornac started and looked at her, unsure as to what to say. "It may come to that," he said hesitantly.

Her face darkened and she stood up. "I hate them for that," she said, unexpectedly. "I really do. Everyone says that my parents were heroes, that they did these great and terrible things for the good of the Empire. I don't believe any of it. They were cowards, they had to have been." She looked at him through angry tears. "They brought me into this world, but only after they murdered a bunch of people and made a bunch of enemies, then they got theirselves killed, leaving me to suffer the fallout. It's not fair."

"No," he said, "it is not."

There was a long silence.

"Sometimes I wish I had born a boy," she continued bitterly, wiping at her face. "That way I could defend myself better, and I wouldn't have to constantly listen to the things I should and should not do because I'm a girl. But that's not right either, because my mother could defend _herself_ perfectly fine."

Tornac got up and walked over to her, placing a hand on her shoulder. The events of the day must have rattled her worse than he originally had thought. There had been many attempted assassinations on the child's life, more than Tornac could count. It was in a truth, true that Rose was indifferent whenever a threat arose but stricken when someone she knew offended her.

Tornac had a strange feeling that it Lord Lakan's words that were truly affecting her. Since the moment the portly Lord Lakan had arrived in Urû'baen, he has been pursuing many of the young girls in an ill-manner, and when one of the girls refused his advances, he would affront them in pitiless ways.

After a time, Tornac moved in front of her and cupped her face between his hands so that he could look directly at her face. She wouldn't meet his eyes. "My advice, Rose," he said, "is to keep as far away from the Courts of Urû'baen as possible, and if Lord Lakan bothers you again you must defend yourself. I don't mind if it means you giving him cheek and slighting him, if it gets him to leave you alone, do it. He is hardly worth your trouble, when you have yourself to worry about. It's you first, understood?"

She met his eyes, and nodded as best she could. "I don't fancy the Courts anyhow," she said.

"Good," said Tornac, thinking over the possibilities. "Then you're on the right path. However, there is one thing I need to speak to you about, Rose."

"Yes?" she said wearily.

"You are not going to go into a courtship with any man, anytime time soon," he said. "So, no thoughts on marriage or what you wish to name your children."

She fought her way out his grip and backed away from him, looking at him in confusion. "Do you have a touch of brain fever?" she demanded. "I have a lifetime for that, I thought I said this."

Tornac chuckled and guided her towards the door, far too uncomfortable to stay in the room. "I just wanted to ensure we were in a direct understanding is all," he said smiling to himself.


	31. Chapter 18

_________I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
I'll say it now so I don't have to later; sorry for the ending of this chapter I wanted to continue it on but I also wanted to get it up this week so I just ended it where I have it. I did research before I wrote this chapter- a lot of research- about festivials and festivals would have happened for pretty much any reason- the sun came up, oh, lets a festival for it! As for the reason for this festival its real, different season but it happens.  
Anyway, enjoy,_

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**The Festival**

That night Rose dreamed she was flying on a red dragon. For a moment she thought she was riding Thorn, and she reached out her mind to mend with it but all she felt a savage hatred that burned and twisted in her mind. She quickly withdrew her mind, and noticed that the dragon's scales shone a darker color, it was less bulky and much larger than Thorn. She was sitting on the dip of its neck on top of a molded leather saddle somewhere high in the sky, higher than she had ever been before, and there was someone sitting behind her. Looking behind her, she saw a tall man veiled by a very dark, very long cloak, his hands darted in and out of the shadows of his cloak as he was cutting a smooth round fruit with a small knife. She couldn't see his face, but his eyes gleamed under the hood. "You cannot hide from me, Dragon Rider," a dark voice said from around her, somehow she knew it did not belong to the man. "I have seen you and your dragon. Your enchantress' charms do not work against me. I will find you and you will serve me." The voice began to laugh, but it was an empty laugh void of any emotion, cold and dark like the night itself.

The dream shifted, and she was standing on a street of a stinking city with low buildings and high walls. There were no people in the streets only filth and rats and stinging insects. She watched as a rat scattered out from under a four wheeled cart and past her to a square structure, the only building that was taller than the guard walls. The rat squeaked at her foot and scampered over the paved path, straight into the barred windows of the tower. A breeze blew through the city, rolling scraps of paper and rubbish. She lifted her foot as a paper rolled across the ground and swatted at an insect as it flew close to her face. "Look to the north," a voice like a whisper said. She looked around, then faced the north looking at the barred tower. "Look to the north," it repeated.

The dream passed into other dreams that Rose didn't remember but when she woke, she felt an uneasy despair.

.

The next morning Rose was so stiff she could hardly move, she felt as if she were bruised all over. The day was overcast and drear, and a dim pale light filtered into the cave. She turned over with a groan and sat up disconsolately. As Thorn was still asleep, she dug through her pack for food cautiously, watching the calmed ocean stir below. The world seemed drained of color, expect for the sea which had shifted from its inky color to a mellow green. The echoing of the waves below seemed unnaturally loud, even threatening.

She had just finished a light meal, when Thorn woke up.

_We go?_ He asked groggily.

Rose nodded. "We have a few days of recreation, and I wish to see Teirm," she said. Glancing at him, she remembered his ill state the night before. "How do feel?"

_I don't know, yet._

"If need be I wouldn't mind us staying here," she said with a sigh.

Thorn expanded his wing as far as he could in the cave and shook them, then folded them back. _I would mind, _he said._ I need to fly._

She stood up with a smile, and tucked her sword beneath the sheepskin, fastening the hunting knife in its place. Tornac hadn't put much thought when he made the sword, she had realized the day before, had he put more thought into he might not have made it appear so grand. The sword was far too remarkable for what she was hoping to accomplish, and though she did not wish to be away from it Rose thought it best to leave the blade behind.

"I doubt the sheepskin will be needed today," she said tying the undyed cap to her belt, "I think it would be best if you flew me halfway to Teirm and left me near a path, so that no one notices you. As long as you don't fly too far, we should be able to keep in contact." Filling a small drawstring bag with food, she turned to Thorn. "I'm ready when you are."

_Eager to go, are we?_ Thorn said.

Rose stiffened then bit her lip. "Yes, I am," she said with a sigh. "I've never been on my own, not truly. I'm finding it rather exciting to go somewhere without an escort or a herd of sentries or an overbearing guardian following behind watching my every move."

_You are not alone,_ he said blinking at her, his tail sweeping across the ground.

"I know," she said, flinching out of the way of Thorn's tail. "You're quite different than any other company I have kept before." With a frown, she looked at Thorn out of the corner of her eyes and rubbed her hands together. "Shall we go?"

_Yes, _Thorn said leaning down, allowing her to climb onto his back.

Once on top, she sat at ease, gripping the spike that jutted from his spine with a light hand. That was until he moved forward and jumped out of the entrance to cave at a steep dive towards the sodden rocks below. Rose shut her eyes and leaned close against his back, holding tightly onto the spine, struggling to balance herself.

Then before Thorn's head broke the water, he flared out his wings and glided over the water. Rose opened her eyes as he lowered himself even farther, extending his claws into the water creating a glistening green stream, spraying them both with chilling beads of water. Thorn swiveled his head around at Rose, who was clinging desperately to his spike so to not fall off, before he turning away blinking and thrusting his wing down rising into the sky once more.

_I despise it when you do that,_ said Rose as he leveled out.

Thorn sent her a tendril of amusement in reply, and playfully folded his wings back forcing them into a slight plummet towards the sea for a few feet before rising on the wind. Rose didn't speak a word to him, hanging silently onto his spike, her mouth clamped shut against the twisting sourness in her belly. She had her head turned down near her shoulder with her eyes firmly close, listening eagerly for the noises that where associated with Thorn as he landed, instead she only heard the replicating beating and the piercing whistle of the dragon's wings. For a time she rebuffed Thorn's attempts to communicate with her, withdrawing herself completely from his mind and listening only the sounds that surrounded them.

After a long moment, but the moment came none too soon, Thorn landed in a dingle of trees, and Rose hurriedly turned off of his back. She landed on her hands and knees, on top from knobby root, which caused a radiating pain to crawl up her legs and into her back. Quickly standing up, she spun around and angrily faced Thorn. Feeling Thorn press against her mind she made a face at him, then turned away and tucked her braided hair into the undyed cap. Rose felt him press against her mind yet again, this time more urgently, and she reluctantly allowed him in.

She felt him pass into her mind, lightly examining her emotions and sending her his own as he did so. This left her shifting impatiently from foot to foot, with her bottom lip wedged firmly between her teeth. After a time she felt him recede slightly from her.

_Are you done now, Thorn?_ she asked. _I would like to be going._

Thorn switched his tail across the ground. _Yes,_ he said as he crouched to the ground readying himself to jump into the air.

Nodding, Rose turned away towards the twisting deer trail which led to the road. Not long after she reached the sheltering of the trees, she felt her juvenile annoyance towards Thorn fade and diminish completely. She turned and watched as Thorn faded to the skies, before turning back down the trail and walked in silence.

.

The clearing Thorn had landed on was less than a league south from Teirm, but the walk still took Rose most of the morning before she reached the high white walls of the city . As Rose neared the walls of the city, she could see from on top of steep hill, to the north the sea cliff where she and Thorn had spent the previous night ebbed away to a rocky shore with many numbers of docks. From the distance, the seaport city of Teirm seemed to have been buildings of scattered stones. Most of the buildings were constructed white or tan, some were of a strange pink stone, but all gleamed like blocks of salt amid the cobbled roads and dark green gardens of cypresses and laurels and olives. Teirm was a busy trading port, its harbor well protected against both storm and attacks by brigands, by a tangle of reefs and currents, by the peculiarly ascending structures, and by the arms of its encircling ramparts.

As Rose neared the towers, she began to feel apprehensive. Much sooner than she would have like she arrived at the tall gates, thick oak stoutly barred with black steel. Over the gates a yellow pennant stirring in the wind, stitched into the emblem was a rough outline of a roaring lion and under it an arm holding a blossoming lily. Two guards clad in a rich purple stood at the entrance, the metal tips of their pikes that blocked the path into the city gleaming from the veiled sun. "Wha's yer name and yer business here?" asked one of the guards in an uninterested tone.

"I'm called Wyn," she said looking down at the ground, hoping the hat would cover enough of her face. "I'm here because my da left his lunch at home,"- she nudged the cloth sack at her waist- "and my ma told me t' bring it for him."

"Is that so?" The guard shifted towards her.

"Yes, sir," Rose said still looking at the ground, "it is."

She could feel his eyes studying her, as he was deciding whether or not to believe her story. Biting the inside of her cheek, she whispered a silent prayer that he would.

"And what village are yer comin' from?" said the guard suspiciously.

Rose started and bit her lip hesitantly. She felt like kicking herself, why had she not thought of this? As quickly as she could she ran a mental list of the name of the towns and villages that remembered where in the area, but she could only remember two. She opened her mouth, but the other guard saved her from a hasty lie.

"Leave the lad alone, Nab," said the other guard withdrawing the pike from in front of her.

The guard called Nab glared angrily at his colleague before grudgingly withdrawing his pike from the entrance, allowing her into the city.

Cautiously, she walked past the guards into the city, a hand on her knife, and stared at the buildings with interest. They were squat and plainly square, but the further she went into the city the taller the buildings got, with a flat roof covered in slate shingles with a bordering of decorative metal rails, and not as scattered as she originally had thought. The doors and windows were narrow and deep set, bordered with strange carvings, some grotesque, some of surpassing beauty, and runes. Many of the homes were empty, their windows darker with streaks of dust and filth, grass and weeds growing from the cracks in their stone-tiled yards.

The twisting alleys gave way to wide streets flagged with stone that threw the sunlight back blindingly. Here there was little vegetation, and she did not hear the squabbling cheep chirp of bird. High above the streets the citadel was austere, seeming to eschew mere prettiness. There was something that bothered Rose, but at first she couldn't put a finger on it, and it took her a while to figure out what it was. She couldn't hear the voices of children anywhere, there was no children playing in the lines, or laughing in hidden gardens. The people who walked the street were adult and grave, most of them carrying a large weapon, and very few of them were women.

She spent the majority of the day wandering, and as the skies cleared of the heavy clouds revealing that the sun was in the middle of sky, a deep bell chimed and echoed deafening throughout the streets. She cringed, struggling to not cover her ears and turned away. Not long after the noon bell rung, she reached the harborside which unlike most of the city was thriving with activity.

The quay was crowded with baskets of blue and silver fish packing in salt, giant coils of rope, pots filled with lobster and tongued mussels, and dozens of arguing people. Many traders were bargaining, scoffing in disbelief at the prices offered, and talking up the value of their wares. Elsewhere fishers were bringing in their catch, shouting orders at eachother, and sailors were working on their boats or greeting friends, laughing and swearing. The teeming, noisy harborside was a shock after the silence of the city. _You two-leggeds,_ Thorn said watching from their mind-touch, _all you do is talk but rarely are words spoken._

She started, nearly stepping onto a massive loop of rope, having forgotten that she was still in touch with him as he has been quiet throughout the whole day.

_It is not about the words spoken but the meaning that is hidden behind them, _Rose countered, once she recovered. _In the least that's how it is in __Urû'baen but these people are like birds, you scatter some feed on the ground and they fight to be first to get it, cheeping and __twittering the whole while._ She paused and glanced around at the crowd pausing at the sight of a tall man in a ragged cloak. After studying him for a moment, she said, _How are the winds?_

_Much calmer than earlier_, he said.

_That is good,_ said Rose. _I've seen all I can here. I'm going to head for that valley._

_I will go back and wait for you to return._

Rose turned away from the noisy dockside, and walked on in silence.  
.

On the morning of the fourth day that they spent near Teirm, the sun rose into the sky as perfectly blue as a robin's egg. During the previous days, Rose had spent either walking the streets of Teirm, in attempt to familiarize herself with the city, or flying with Thorn, learning how to balance herself better as he flew. Now she sat comfortably on his back, without fear of falling but was only when he was simply gliding with the winds.

The winding alleys and small streets of Teirm were packed with people dressed in bright clothing: emerald green and crimson and gold and azure and turquoise, so bright that Rose could see them from in the sky. As the afternoon wore on, more and more people swelled into the crowded streets.

Near evening, Rose questioningly looked down at the sea of colors. She hadn't realized there were some many people in Teirm. _I wonder what's going on down there,_ she said, a light breeze played through her hair

_Do you wish to find out?_

_Yes,_ said she after a moment's pause, shifting into a more sable position as Thorn dived towards the ground. Once he had landed in the usual knoll of crushed heather, she jumped from his back and jogged to the broken trail ignoring the protecting squawks of birds. _Are you going keep to skies? If so, tell me if you see her. I'll only be but a moment._

_I will,_ he said.

She felt a cooling draft of wind come from Thorn's wings, as she stepped around a tree. Wandering the city was pall, and she hadn't the intention of to go into Teirm that day, wishing to spend it with Thorn as they watched the path or the sun play over the sea. Without the intent of meeting human life she had left the woolen hat in the cave, and her hair hung unfastened down her back, this was something she was sure she would regret later.

As Rose neared the walls of Teirm, she began to run her fingers through the tangle of hair before she quickly gave up her attempts and walked on. She passed through the gates unchallenged, the guards looked on forlornly as if they didn't see her, and squeezed her way through the streets feeling breathless. The instant she pressed into crowd, she felt as she had jumped into a surge of sweltering water.

The brightly colored crowd pushed her steadily towards the waterfront, where it was more crowded and more noisy and hot. Children wiggled their way between people's legs, some wearing masks of dried feathers and silk, some had their faces painted with little foxes and cats and fish and flowers.

Suddenly she could hear a huge drum being hit in a solemn, commanding beat, and though it seemed impossible, the crowd parted and pushed back from the streets where there seemed to be hardly any space available at all. Rose craned her head to see an enormously stout man with a gilt and green drum that hung around his neck, and behind him a procession of tumblers and jugglers all dressed in bright colors. Some of the jugglers were throwing gold knives that flash in the sun or touches with a bright glow of flames at both ends. Rose watched the juggler as they landed in tumbling arcs onto each other's shoulders, or walked on their hands or on stilts, or built theirselves into human towers of a dozen.

After them came a column of dozens of children, some riding stocky ponies with saddles decorated with feathers or flowers, some walking, or some running with hoops and sticks. The girls were clad in dresses with several layers of flounces and lace with beribboned parasols laying over their shoulder, while the boys wore brilliantly striped trousers and shirts, a painted wooden sword swinging at their hip. Most children and masks mode of feathers, and glass, silk and mirrors that flashed in the light, some of the masks were broken or worn with age, all of them carried an unlit candle. Some of the children walked less enthusiastically, and one bumped in a tiny boy knocking him to the ground. Instead and bursting into tears, he scrambled up, and whacked the older kid on the rump before running off again in cheer, his mask lay broken on the ground.

A glint of light caught her eyes blinding her, and she looked pass the human towers across the road at Ailis. She was holding a triangular piece of mirror from one the masks, looking at her with an eyebrow raised questioningly. Ailis motioned her over with a hand but Rose shook her head pointing to the street as a series of floats drawn by gorgeously harnessed horses passed by, causing Ailis to press her lips together and looked away.

With a deep breath, Rose returned her attention to the floats, each more extravagant then the last. And at last came the last float, a dozen of nobles stood in the middle of a replica garden from child's tale _Little Addograt_. Identifying the spindly Lord Risthart by the shine of his polished head, Rose ducked her head and looked away willing him not to notice her. As the float passed, an overwhelming sweet perfume drifted down into the applauding crowd.

"Did he recognize you?"

Rose started and looked up at Ailis, who was clapping along with the crowd, not looking at her.

"I don't think so," she said.

"That's a good thing," said Ailis emotionlessly.

Rose bit her lip and shifted. "Do you know who he was?"

"No," she said as she stopped clapping, "but you do. Would you like to go have an evening meal, or stand in out here and clap for the next hour with the rest of the crowd?"

"Supper would be welcome."

Ailis nodded, and roughly grabbed her hand, shouldering her way through the crowd towards a small pub in the distance. Eventually they reached their destination, tavern called the Croaking Toad, where Ailis lead her to a small table in the corner as far from listening ears as possible. The sounds of talking and laughing and even the playing of a harp could be heard.

When Ailis said nothing, Rose asked, "What are the festivities in celebration of?"

"The glowing waters," said Ailis after a moment pause.

Rose looked at her disbelief. "Glowing water?" she asked.

"Yes."

Rose waited, but nothing more was said. "Meaning?"

"That you are quite dense," said Ailis, closing her eyes.

"I didn't see you come into Teirm," Rose said after long moment of listening to harpist.

"So you were watching for me." Ailis sat up and examined her face. "You should know, then, that I arrived last night moments before the gates closed. And you? When did you and your friend get here?"

Rose hesitated. "Days ago," she said finally.

Ailis nodded and fell quiet. "You'll enjoy watching the sea tonight more than the festivities that will proceed throughout the day, I think," she said after a long time. "It only happens once a few years, and when it does Teirm becomes quite passionate and the people tend to become," she paused and pursed her lips, "rather imprudent. I suppose that would be best way to say it."

"It's awfully overwhelming," Rose agreed.

"It is, isn't it," Ailis mussed, then shook her head. "After we eat, you best stay out of Teirm, I would dislike it if someone were to recognize you and report you to the Empire. I don't like to hear of my own, or those I travel with, proceedings. It always bodes ill." She paused again and looked around the room. "Then, again, we might just want to skip over the meal and leave Teirm all together."

"You've gotten in contact with those you needed to, so soon?"

Ailis shook her head. "It's time for celebration here, no one would wish to talk to me," she said quietly almost to herself. "I'd only dampen what little joy they have. I was referring to the fact that the best view of the sea is from above." Ailis smile wickedly at her and called the server over to order a meal. When the server left, Ailis continued, "As I said before, you'll like this night, quite a bit."


	32. Chapter 19

___________I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
I've been neglecting a few things, that I plan to address from this point on.  
Enjoy,_

* * *

**Lights in the Night**

The insipid grays of sea rolled noiselessly below them, or perhaps, they were too high elevated to hear the crashing of the waves and the swooshing as the tides summoned the waters back into the depths. Rose watched the waters beneath from above, as they pitched and toiled in an arbitrary rhythm. It was in truth rather unexciting, compared to the vociferous festivities that she had left behind in the seaport city of Teirm. Festivities that now she wished she could join.

She sighed and leaned forward, resting her head on the side of Thorn's neck. As she shifted on his back she could feel the smooth knobs of dragon scales through the, now, thin and dilapidated sheepskins. Though the sheepskins had once protected her with a thick layer of wool and a thinner layer of soft leather, the continuous friction of sharp scales and her weight had worn it down to flimsy slip. To her dismay, she had spent the a number of hours that pervious night picking and pulling at the fleece caught between Thorn's scales, something she was sure she would have to later that night as well. She swung her legs out loosening the tightened, stiff muscles, then as she felt unbalanced she grasped firmly with her knees.

A white and black feathered seabird unwisely flew close to them, and Thorn playfully growled and snapped at it with his teeth. The seabird screeched at him before diving away. Thorn folded his wings slightly and let them drop after it, as they plummeted Rose leaned herself closer to his bulk and tightened her grip on his spike. While his dives no longer frightened her as they once had, as he had done them so many times in these past days that she now use to it, she wanted to kick him for not warning her.

Not far ahead of them the seabird rapidly swirled in a different direction then flared out its banded wings and ascended into the sky, and Thorn matched each of its movements. The seabird and dragon continued this way, in their dancing chase, for a time before Thorn sped up with one powerful flap of his wings and snapped at the seabirds black tail feathers, causing it squeal madly with shock, before he glided away.

Rose turned her head around and watched the bird frighteningly spin down at the water. _I think you frightened the poor thing to death_, she told him.

She felt, more than heard, Thorn hum with contently beneath her. _Not to death,_ he said happily, _only enough so that it will no longer fly close a dragon._

_Only for fear that it might be snapped in half._

His bulk shook with a throaty laugh. _I have gifted it with a valuable lesson,_ he laughed.

Rose closed her eyes and shook her head at his humor. _You're a cruel teacher, Thorn._

Thorn deepened his rumbling laugh and glided higher into the sky. He shook himself, enough to unsettle Rose's imperfect stability, having forgotten that she was on his back.

She gasped and after steadying herself, Rose swept her gaze to the shore. Hundreds of feet above the shoreline, a leafy woodland covered a flat land that fell abruptly, as if a monstrous knife had sheared it away, to a muddled coast with dark, shining stones. She did not see anyone. By this time, she was quite sure that Ailis would have arrived but she had not and the sun was falling rapidly to the end of the sky, where the wide blue skies met the endless grey of the deep sea, glittering in hues of gold and red.

Had they, perhaps, come to the incorrect place, mistaking the sea cliff for the many that lined the coastline near Teirm? Rose didn't think so, the precipice the hung over the stony beach was the first one she and Thorn had seen for many miles. If seemed very unlikely, that Ailis had been referring to some the precipices leagues away, unless she had no intention of arriving before dark.

She thought again of dinner at the tavern called the Croaking Toad. Where both Ailis and Rose sat silently as they ate choosing either to listen to the chant of the harpist as he sang ancient lays, music Rose hadn't heard in what felt to be years, or watching the people around them laugh and joke and dance in wild jerky movements.

Rose had never before felt so apart from people, it was as if there was a thin glass separating her from them. In Urû'baen she knew how to behave herself, to be silent and smile in the pretense of enjoyment and others would conduct themselves in the same way, but the people of Teirm were different. Their wild delight took her by surprise and all she could do, all she wanted to do, was to observe them so that she might understand how a people as a whole could be chillingly severe one day and beguilingly jubilant the next.

She watched the people celebrate throughout the meal, but at times when she turned her focus to her meal she noticed that Ailis was watching her, likely judging her actions. Ailis' unfaltering gaze left Rose feeling like a child waiting to scolded about something they didn't know they did wrong, and she sat at the edge of her seat nervously eating the food, not knowing what she ate or the taste of it. When she did meet Ailis' stare, the woman would unwaveringly scowl back at her until Rose looked down or away.

After the plates were cleared and the meal paid for, they left the tavern and struggled their way through the vibrant crowd to the gates. Once they had reached the bordering walls of Teirm, Ailis had turned to Rose and had her promise in the Ancient Language not return to the city for the next four days. Rose had said the words only once before many months ago, the day after they had fled the capital city, but she had thought very little of them then and forgot the words soon after she said them. After asking for the words Ailis demanded, Rose promised though grudgingly, and Ailis requested that meet at the beachside covered in rocks three miles north of the city before rushing back into Teirm and disappearing in the mass of colors. On her way to meet with Thorn at the vale, Rose ran over the words of the Ancient Language committing them to memory. As she repeated the words in her mind an awareness blazed inside her… _Eka aroel_… _Eka aroel_… _Eka aroel._

The thought of those powerful words pressed heavily on her mind, and she sighed, promptly turning to look away, clearing the thoughts away.

She watched silently as the sky darkened and the land and sea dulled, and Thorn sensing her mood kept quiet as well. As her patience began to wane, she switched her attention to watching the shadows play across Thorn's wings. Then as that too grew tiring, it was now dusk and the last of the light of day had not left the sky, she leaned forward and stared down at the coast.

To her surprise, a small fire blazed close to the edge of the cliff and a figure, small and dark, sat at its edges. Rose immediately sent Thorn a depiction of what she saw, and the dragon whirled in that direction.

Thorn landed just outside the glowing reaches of the firelight, and the figure sitting on the ground started and looked up. "Did you stop to think, for the slightest moment, that it might not have been me who was sitting here?"

Rose swung her legs over Thorn's back and sat sideways, her feet dangling over the ground. "No," she said, "I hadn't thought to."

"Think about it next time," Ailis said, poking at the fire with a long winding stick. She spoke slowly, conflict clear on her face. "I'd rather you walk into tribulation prepared, then dive into chaos without an idea of how to face it in your mind."

Rose looked around the clearing at the horse, and after studying the dark creature for a quick moment she looked away. She clenched her hands into fists, and felt a sharp pain on her palm as her nails dug into her skin. "Have you left Lanorgrim behind?" asked she sliding down off of Thorn. Rose walked past his broad tail, which he playfully swung at her, and sat down across the fire from Ailis.

The woman closed her eyes and stretched over her arms. "I did," she said. "He has a slight limp, and so I borrowed Shadowless, which is something Tornac did not allow me to do lightly. He's rather cross with you at moment but I except you knew this as you told him in writing your intentions."

Rose involuntarily bit her lip. She had known the moment she decided that she was leaving for Teirm that Tornac would be irate with her, and Ailis was right, that was why she wrote the note. What Ailis had not voiced, however, was how carven it had been of her to do so, though, her lack of courage was not a concern to her when she had composed that message. Her anxiety had been directed to the actual act of arriving to Teirm, as the means of travel was less than ideal, to such a degree that her logic for doing so was pushed to the back of mind, almost forgotten.

Now, sitting across from Ailis, her flawed reasoning was pushed to the front of her mind, incase she had the need to defend herself. There was no need for this, as Ailis simply looked her over and tutted.

"You shouldn't bite your lip," said Ailis. "One of these days, you might end up biting it off."

Rose sighed and looked at her from across the fire. "Cordelia use to say the same thing," she said, referring to her former nursemaid. "After a month and countless warnings, she smeared hot pepper oil on lips in attempt to get me to take heed to her words." Rose faintly smiled at Ailis. "Her attempts hadn't worked overly well."

Ailis stopped in her prodding of the fire and looked at her in surprise.

It was as an unspoken agreement that they did not speak of Cordelia, neither in Urû'baen or after they escaped from the city. Though, Cordelia had been harsh with her, and at times unspeakably cruel, the nursemaid was the woman who had comforted after night terrors and bandaged her hands when she fell, and when Cordelia abruptly left Urû'baen Rose couldn't help but to feel abandoned and betrayed. When she had met Ailis, Rose had pushed her anger and resentment aside as they were far too unsullied to think about, and even after the time that had passed her resentment towards the nursemaid hadn't altered.

"I can see that," Ailis said, shoving the burning stick into a clump of dirt. When she pulled the stick out it was charred and spotted with black flacks.

Rose scowled and looked away from the fire into the blackness of the night. The dark of the night was now complete, the sky was blanketed with a mysterious sapphire curtain dappled in the brightness of stars. The glowing orbed moon was hidden from sight, and starlight shaded the forest beyond them with sinister shadows. Rose shifted uneasily, turning back to look at Ailis, and said "Do you believe to be dark enough to see these glowing water?"

Ailis glanced up at the sky then she stood up, dropping the stick onto the ground. "I believe so," she said, pulling a lantern out of her bag. She picked the stick up and swung the end into the fire, after the stick had ignited once more she lit the lantern, and stuffed the stick into the ground. Ailis held the lantern high over her head and walked to the edge of the cliff.

Rose stood up as well, and followed Ailis as she walked along the ledge. Looking out over the black sea, Rose saw only darkness and she frowned. "The water is not glowing," she said.

She heard Ailis sigh.

"I know," Ailis said gloomily. "The sea is being too idle. I had hoped it'd be more active tonight, as it was during the day. You're going to have to patient."

Ailis came to a stop at a broken, narrow path that led off the ledge and wound its way treacherously downward, curling around ledges and rocky slopes. Without a delay, Ailis began to scramble her way down.

Rose bit her lip, looking down doubtfully and backed away. "I'm not going down that path," Rose said.

"And why not?"

"It's nighttime therefore it is dark, also there is only one lantern to guide us instead of two," said Rose rubbing her hands together, looking thoughtfully at Thorn. He appeared to be asleep, his tail curled around him touching his snout, but Rose knew he was not. He was deliberately ignoring her. "You may have fancy the idea of falling but I do not."

Ailis laughed indifferently, in the black stillness of night Rose found it rather haunting. "I won't let you won't fall," she said and paused. "Here take my hand."

Rose looked at her hand, a white smudge in the vast blackness. She gritted her teeth, pushing aside her discomforts, and took a careful step onto the path. "You might need your hand, incase one of slips," said she, blindly picking her way down the slope.

Ailis muttered something but too softly for Rose to hear what she said.

For a while they continued in silence. It was hard going, and both of their hands were scraped and bloodied. Twenty feet down the slop, Rose slipped and nearly fell off the cliff face but Ailis caught her by her arms, nearly dropping the lantern, and heaved her up. After that the trail widened slightly and it was easier going. After a long struggle, they reached the bottom and stood wobbly on the black stones beneath it.

Ailis bent down and picked up a handful of small, round stones, placing the lantern between them. Turning to Rose, she grabbed her hand and dropped a stone into her palm. "Throw it into the water," she said, walking the edge of the sea.

Rose ran her fingers over the smooth surface of the black stone and followed Ailis. She stopped beside Ailis and with a quick look at woman, Rose gently threw the stone into the water. The stone twisted then _plump_ed softly into the sea. A ring of intense cobalt light circled the place where it landed, the glowing ring grew and another appears, then another. Rose stared in open wonder, her mouth gaping open, as the first band of blue light faded.

As Rose bent down to collect more stones from the ground, Ailis skillfully tossed a stone so that it pranced across the water, three sets of looped light swelling after it until the sunk into the black of sea. Ailis tossed another stone into the water, in the same way she had done before. This time there was five series of light that lively grew and dimmed.

Rose watched for a moment, bent over, as Ailis flung her stones into the water, noticing how she flicked her wrist and making out that she only did so with the flatter stones. With a handful of stones, Rose stood up and waited for the lights to die away. She picked out a flat stone with her left hand, it was cool and damp, then she gracelessly hurled the stones into the inky water. She grinned widely as she watched the stones make contact with the water and the rings of light that pulsed after them. As an afterthought, she flung the stone, she set aside, as she seen Ailis do, the stone didn't skip across the water, but sunk mindless to depths below. With a shrug, Rose bent down and gathered more stones.

After a time of tossing stones into the water in comfortable silence, Rose looked at Ailis from the corner of her eyes and tossed a stone as far as she could.

"What is it that the people of Teirm do at night during their festive?" said Rose, watching the loops of light in the black water.

Ailis was still for a moment, then she bent down in a crouch and selected a few stones. "Those who can afford it paddle out to sea on large rafts," she said standing up and tossed stone across the sea, "and release small crafts with lit candles attached to them. On those small crafts, are two gold coins, a token to the gods, a roll of parchment and on that parchment is a wish or letter to a love one who departed. It is said that if you release the craft in a night that the waters glow, that the wish will come true or the spirit of those you love will receive your letter. The crafts that sank are believed to be an omen for ill fortune. Those who cannot afford to sail on the raft or do not desire to, release a thin block of wood or a homemade craft from the shore normally without a candle, or toss a bottle into the sea. Many of the children play close to the shores and splash in the water with their feet or hands." Ailis smirked as she threw another stone. "Sometimes those children who play in the waters return home glowing."

Rose glanced at her. "Do the children honestly glow?"

"Yes. It's quite a chore to scrub off them, too."

Rose laughed softly and looked out into the water. She could not see Thorn as he flew them but she did see the ripple of light as he dipped his claws into the water, and she felt the gust of wind as he landed on the shore. She glanced in his direction, and could scarcely make out the red gleam of his scales as they flashed in the lantern light. There was a faint glow above the stones where Thorn's claws might have been.

_Is it any better to look at from above?_ she asked, looking back at the sea.

_It is much more fun to create then to look at it._

Rose grinned openly and tossed a stone the size of her hand into the water. The stone plunged heavily, and a spatter of shining water rose up and swallowed the stone. Delicate, thin rings of blue circled the area it fell into and the circle grew and brightened until they were no more. Her grin widened with the simple wonder of the radiant waters, but the enjoyment of watching the sea shine was soon broken.

"Forgive me, Rose, but must ask," said Ailis. "I know you have no coins with you to pay for food, and I cannot help but question if you brought enough to eat for the next days."

Rose felt as if Ailis poured cold water over her. With more force than before, she hurled a stone. "I don't have as much as I'd like," she admitted.

The stone loudly plugged in the distance, and lit up the inky sea.

There was a chiming jangle of coins, and Rose felt a weighed cloth press into her hand. "Take that," said Ailis, "you might need it."

"I cannot go into Teirm," Rose reminded her.

"There's a decent market in Culdaff," Ailis said pointing in the southern direction. "If I'm correct, it's a league south of here. Do you remember the road we on when traveled north of Teirm?"

Rose nodded, then realizing that Ailis likely couldn't see the action, she said, "Yes."

"If Thorn follows that south you'll reach Culduff without a problem," said Ailis. She turned to Thorn, swaying slightly as she stumbled over the uneven ground. "Thorn, it's the only town that the road cuts through before reaching Kuasta which is many leagues away. You'll be able to see an island in the distance. If you're willing to go, keep above the road and out of sight."

_Tell her that I will fly there,_ said Thorn.

Rose could feel his curiosity brimming through her mind, and she struggled to push it away. She shifted on her feet, she had heard of the town Culdaff before but she could not remember when or what the conversion might have been about.

"He says he'll fly there. Why Culdaff?"

"It's a sleepy town. Sleepy enough so that I have no qualms sending you there."

Closing her eyes, Rose took a deep breath, the sea air was musty with salt and decay. She opened her mouth then closed it and bit her lip with a slight shake of her head. "Culdaff it is, then," said she lowly after a moment.

"Oh," Ailis exclaimed. "I only meant that the markets of Culdaff will not press you as hard as those around Teirm. You won't have to bargain as hard."

"Bargain?" she said. "As in haggle? Ailis, I had not done such a thing before."

Ailis sighed and another stone went skipping across the water. "I know, and it's time you learn."

Rose shifted uneasily, the bags of coins felt heavily in her hand. She tied them to loop on her belt, but the weight didn't fade. Tossing a very round stone, she watched as the sea lit up.

_What's troubling you?_ asked Thorn.

_This goes against everything I've been taught; women don't partake in barter, they don't bargain, they certainly do not carry coins,_ she said, then looked across at Ailis. _Most women, that is._

)(.().)(

High above a swelling moon overlooked the sea its silver light fell on the grass turning it silver against the fire on top of the seacliff. Had the women below looked up they might have thought that their eyes were playing tricks of them, and blinked at the deceptive moonlight. For sometime it seemed that the shadows swelled and distorted, and something black moved against the twinkling sky. If there had been a watcher, and if the watcher had been patient, after a time it would have become clear that that a darkly cloaked figure watched furtively from above, keeping low to the ground. The figure briefly murmured something that was inaudible and crept away from the cliff face, slipping past the fading fire and the picketed black horse, into the woods.


	33. Chapter 20

_I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.__  
__Before you read this chapter: I just want to say that I'm changing my style a bit to make the characters seem a little more real.  
As always, enjoy,_

* * *

**An Obligation**

In the black hours of the night, Ailis and Rose bid each other a goodnight promising to meet again at a tavern, in one of the many small towns bordering Teirm before dark that following day. As Ailis scuffled her way back up the cliffside path, Rose bent down and picked up a handful of stones, before climbing onto Thorn's back. She rested against the side of his neck tiredly, as he flew to the cave they have been using for lodging.

_Ailis seemed rather calm,_ Rose said to Thorn through their mind-link. She had thought that Ailis would be raving with fury, when they had reunited, though she had also believed that they would not meet again until after the both of them had returned from Teirm.

Thorn sent her a tendril of agreement.

She dropped a stone from over Thorn's bulk, and watched the dark water below as it lit up an alluring blue where the stone made contact. Then she dropped another stone and another until she held no more. A short time after Rose emptied her hand of stones, they arrived at the cave and Thorn dived into opening. He landed roughly, jolting her though not enough to send her rolling from his back as he had the first time. _I do not believe her to be unruffled_, said Thorn. _I think she is very angry but she has set her sentiments aside to keep peace with you._

Rose slid off of his back. _I'd rather she'd yell at me._

_What would that accomplish?_

Rose shrugged at him, and began to untie the ropes attached to the sheepskin pad. _It'd accomplish nothing,_ she said. _Though I might know how she feels. _I_ feel like I'm live in an effervesce, and everyone's emotions, including my own, are hardly touching me._ She pulled the wooly sheepskin off of him and flung it onto the ground. _I'd like to punch someone to know if it'd hurt._

Thorn cheerfully thumped his tail onto the ground, scattering the dust. _It's very likely that would hurt_, he said in a serious tone.

Rose plucked a cluster of wool from inbetween his scales, resisting the sudden childish urge to roll her eyes. _I know it would hurt,_ she said, running her hands blindly over his bulk. _By the gods, Thorn, it's an expression. _Thorn began to vibrate beneath her hands rumbling with satisfaction. _You purr like a cat, you know that?_

_I know. That's how I am. Is there something wrong with that?_

_No. _Rose dropped her hands to her sides, giving up on freeing Thorn from the wool that stuck onto his scales. _Cats make me ill is all, and you sound just like one._

She heard his tail thump loudly. _Do I make you ill?_ He asked.

Rose smiled and sat down on the sheepskins. _There are times_. She yawned. _Have a good night, Thorn._

_And you, _he said.

Rose nodded, and lay down on the sheepskin pad. For some time she stared at the blackness of the cave and breathed in the musky air, each time she closed her eyes; flashes of white-blue danced cross her eyes and her body felt as it swayed and fell and rose until she felt queasy. Eventually, the dancing lights stopped and body stilled and she was, at last, able to sleep.  
.

Culdaff was once a teeming fishing village that hugged a tiny harbor of rose-colored cliffs, with wide stone walls that protected a lively populace of laypeople. Now, however, most of the walls were crumbled or broken covered with green, leafy creepers. The stone in many places were blackened with a previous fire, and among the tumble of wreckage, charred beams and broken doors and pieces of colorful broken glass could be seen. The village itself was of perhaps, four dozen houses that cluttered hazardously against the cliff walls. The buildings were painted in fading primary blues or greens or reds. Fresh washings were strung over the streets from house to house like colorful flags, where rows of seagulls crowed and clucked at eachother. On the corner of each street stood soldiers, a shining emblem stitched on their beast. Some chattered quietly together or to passersbys, or watched the streets with a mild expression, while others tested their edges of their blades or throwing knives.

Save for the soldiers and few venders, a few dogs that nosed down the alley looking for scraps, the market was completely empty, and the only thing Rose was able to purchase was a little honeyed sweetmeat. Rose had arrived when all the boats were out at sea and everyone else was having their midafternoon break. She walked, almost absentmindedly down the market passing stalls and small shops quietly observing all that they held. Beads of water, evidence of a passed rainfall, sprinkled on roses and jasmine and saffron in stalls, and rainbows quivered over the scales of trout and salmon, and on the iridescent feathers of killed pheasants and ducks which lay on wooden blocks. From the food to flower stands spread a procession of stalls and tiny shops, which sold everything from curious fortune telling machines laden in copper to tiny brass lanterns, from robes of gossamer silk to thick linen tunics, to rings and brooches to knives and pots. There where shops without roofs, as they had long ago crumbled in, their windows dark or broken.

After a time of wandering the barren town, Rose turned back the way she had come, kicking a stone between her feet so it rattled on the cobbles. She wasn't taking much notice of her surroundings, so when someone shot out of one of the side alleys and crashed into her she was taken completely by surprise. As she was sent sprawling onto the ground, the assailant grabbed a part of her cloak and held her firmly to the ground, even when she lashed out blindly and hit the person in the eye with her fist. She felt a grim sort of satisfaction as her attacker called her some very unfaltering names. Her pleasure quickly faded as she felt the person grab one of her arms, and then another, holding her firmly to the ground. They were both panting with the effort.

The assailant was now sitting astride her, how he had gotten there she wasn't sure, his fingers encircled her wrists. "Yer a hard person tah track," the assailant said, "did yeh know that?"

Most of his features where hidden by the shadowing of his hood but Rose could make out the outline of his nose and a sharp, bearded chin. He stared at her balefully, and Rose flushed.

"There's a reason for that," said Rose, trying to pull her arms free. "Let me go."

"Only if yeh give yer word not to run away," he said.

Rose paused, and glared at him with distrust. She tried to contact Thorn but he was too far off, exploring the surrounding region for a meal as he promised he would be. She felt like cursing but instead she nodded. He studied her for a moment, and Rose took a deep breath, clearing her face of emotion. Carefully the man got off of her, and she leapt to her feet and jerked away from him. She heard him shout in incredulously, and she whirled around and kicked him, as hard as she could, in the stomach before shooting down the street. She was halfway to the corner when she felt the man grab her by the back of her collar. He swung her around, and flung her to the ground. She fell painfully onto her knees and rolled across the path, the breath knocked out of her.

The assailant started towards her, his hands flexing at his sides, his face hidden by his hood. He looked terrifying, and though Rose knew she ought to be frightened, a cold glassy detachment had come over her and time seemed to have slowed. The man reached down toward her, and she scrambled to get up but the man put his foot on her neck and leaned down to her ear.

"Don't bloody try that again," he whispered hoarsely.

Rose bit back her retort, and twisted to get away. The assailant pressed harder, so her face was pushed painfully against the prickled cobblestone.

"Let her up, Trent." The voice was smooth, with an edge of menace. Rose shuttered, realizing that she recognized who the voice belonged to. "She can't fight the both of us."

The assailant took his foot slowly away from her neck, allowing her to sit up and brush herself down. Her hands were shaking with fury, or fear she wasn't sure, and she clenched them into fists.

"Yeh never told me she was a madcap," the assailant said, touching his face where she punched him.

"Didn't know she was," Dunion said, raking his eyes over her. "We need to go before the shields come. Coming, lady?"

Rose shook her head, but she had no illusions she could fight them off and run. Both of the men were taller, broader, and she stronger than she was. Though Tornac and Ailis had trained her to defend herself against such people, she was already hurt from her earlier tussle and there were the Empire guards to consider.

"You might want ter," said Dunion, "unless you want ter go with 'em shields in darbies."

She bit her lip in confusion and she ran her tongue over a small cut on her lip, tasting blood. What were darbies? Manacles, perhaps? Shaking her head, she looked behind her at the road searching for her hat, which she must have lost in her struggle, but she couldn't see it. The hat was hardly important, she knew, but she wanted to have it. It was an insane notion.

"Let 'em shields get her," the assailant said. "She killed Nerth, the Law says she ought to be looped."

"They wouldn't loop her." Dunion walked over to them and hauled to Rose feet. She started and bit her tongue to keep from crying out but she didn't fight him, she was too surprised to do so. He gestured from her scuffed trousers to her bruising face and wayward hair with two of his fingers and, with a smile, he said, "She's a Lady."

"An't much of one," the assailant laughed. His laugh was silent and breathy with a hedonistic edge to it. "Let's get out of here."

"Aye," said Dunion, and, taking the knife from her belt, he forcefully pushed Rose ahead of him, causing her stubble. He moved his face close to her ear. "Don't resist," he said so that only she could hear. "We're not going ter hurt you."

"I don't believe you," she said in the same low tone. "I know better than to believe you."

He sighed in her ear, and she shuddered as his breath stirred her hair. "You don't have ter. We're running from 'em shields just like you are," he said, "and none of us want to get caught."

She thought back to the caravan filled with belongs, belongs she was sure didn't belong to this man, and found that she wasn't surprised in the least that he was running from the Empire's ruling. "How would you know I'm fleeing from the Empire?" she said.

"You'd be with her father in his pretty manor, wearing much less revealing clothing if you weren't, fer one," he said. He shifted his grip to her elbow and pulled her next to him, so that if someone were to pass them it might appear as if he were escorting her tenderly down the street. "You'd also wouldn't be carrying a knife with you, and you wouldn't know how ter fight like that. Trent an't easy ter hurt, either."

"Those are hardly reasons to believe that I'm running from the Empire," she said, looking at him from the corner of her eyes.

He grinned. "They an't, are they?"

There was a long silence, in which they passed a group of guards. Rose looked at the guards half-pleadingly but they took no notice, which was, she reflected, likely a good thing. She could no longer rely on the Empire for protection. Once again she reached out her mind to Thorn but could not reach him.

"Would it trouble you terribly, to tell me where you're taking me?" Rose asked.

His smile widened. "No."

"Where are we going?" she asked.

"My house," he said.

She stopped, her chest heaving, and Dunion pulled at her arm but she refused to move. The assailant, Trent, huffed with annoyance behind them.

"And the reason you're taking me there, is?" she asked pugnaciously.

"I'm in need of yer help."

"There's nothing I could help you with," said Rose, her voice felt like it was caught in her throat. She swallowed and glanced behind her at her, now silent, attacker who looked back at her grimly, she turned away.

"There is," said Dunion, his eyes snapping.

Nonplussed, Rose jerked away from him. "There is no reason I would help you," she said. He pulled on her arm again, and this time she walked with him.

There was a very long silence while Dunion and Trent guided her through the street. Rose took to biting her lip as she tried to master herself. She wanted to yell and grab her knife from him and fling at him but she couldn't. As Dunion had said, they were both running from the Empire and would do no good to draw attention to them.

"There are many reasons you will help me," he said, drawing her closer to him. "You have no choice. Yer bound to help those in need by yer honor, I saved yer life, and you never sent me yer father's gold as payment."

"I would like it very much for you to meet my father," Rose said more temerity than she felt, "so that you may get your compensation from him yourself."

"I an't needing his gold at the moment," said Dunion, coming to a stop in front of a low roofed sable. "I have something else in mind." Dunion said nothing further to her and turned away from her and had a quick, almost silent conversation with Trent.

Rose took a deep breath. The air smelled of stale salt and putrid fish and the stinks of horse, which consumed the less noticeable scent of grass and sweet perfume of the leafy magnolias. Silently she watched as the assailant nodded and walked into the sables through a green painted door. She looked up, another question on her lips, and found Dunion was watching her with less-than-friendly eyes, she looked away, biting her lip. _He'll do anything to get what he wants_, Rose thought, shifting from foot to foot, _without thought of other's welfare._

After a time, the assailant returned leading two horses of a stocky breed, one of the horses was beige with a black mane and other horse was a misty grey. He stopped in front of them and handed the reins of the grey one to Dunion. Dunion took the reins and mounted, motioning for Rose to get on front of him.

She bit her lip and straightened herself to her full height.

"You can get on by yer own free will," Trent said ostentatiously from behind her, "er I can force you on meself."

Before Rose could reply, Dunion leaned down and hooked one arm around her, sweeping her up in front of the horse. Before she was completely settled he commanded his horse forth with a quick flick of his heels. They left the small yard in front of the sables and turned down a filthy, narrow path. After the long days of riding the smooth almost effortless flying of Thorn, Rose found horseback unpleasantly jolting.

For a short time no one talked and Rose listened to the clopping as the horses hurried down the cobbled path. Ahead of them a large, mangy dog growled at them then ran away, its tail tucked between its legs.

"I need your help," Dunion repeated as they rode out the town. "After you help me, you're free to go. I swear."

"You keep saying you need my help, yet you do not say what it is you need help with. How am I to know if I could possibly help you?" asked Rose.

"You can," he whispered. "You can, 'cause I've seen yer pet dragon and I know what you are. That's why you can."

Rose started and stared ahead, trying to contact Thorn once more but there was nothing. She took a deep ragged breath and closed her eyes. _Curse you, Thorn,_ she thought praying that he could hear her. _Curse you and blast you._

_._

They reached their destination in the cooling hours before dusk. A thick mist had begun to rise around them, obscuring the moon and stars. Although they traveled on no roads, Dunion seemed to know the countryside like the inside of his own head, and never appeared to be lost. They passed a number of ruined farmhouses, their roofs slumped in decay, stone walls crumbled with age and weather. Every few moments, Rose endeavored on contacting Thorn but not once had she been able to get a reply, he was probably still hunting, and soon she sank into a dull trance of languor.

At last they seemed to arrive somewhere and she started awake, shaking her head to try to clear it. Out of the mist loomed the outlines of what appeared to be a rundown farmhouse. The door was open, and through it she could see a wide hearth where an orange fire burned low. Dunion lead them around to the back to a walled dirt yard, where huge dockweeds nodded in the corners. A knee-high speckled dog, Rose recognized as Wolf, came bounding out of the sables to their left whining happily in greeting. Dunion swung his leg up and back, and slid inelegantly off of the horse, still holding the reins. He greeted Wolf then turned and looked at Rose with a raised eyebrow.

"Are you coming?" he asked.

Rose slid off the horse in answer and studied the walls of the house. The walls were made of some type mesh woven together by sticks, giving the house a rather feeble aura. The sound of a child talking greeted her ears, and she looked at the door. A small dirty-faced boy clung to the door with a toothy grin, a string of mossy blonde hair coiled around his button nose. He wore a brown tunic and stockings but no shoes, there was something curiously unusual about the way his legs were shaped. The boy waved at her and hobbled away, very much like an old man would, into the house. She absentmindedly bit her lip.

Dunion lightly touched her arm, and guided her inside the house. They entered a straw floored room, which was filled with a delicious smell that made water fill Rose's mouth. A woman with golden hair bound back by a leather thong sat at a big wooden table with long benches on either side, she was mercilessly beating a mound of dough. A long, woolen curtain covered a doorway behind her. Over the table were clustered lines of dried herbs and onions which hung from wooden beams that stretched across the ceiling. A large brick oven with an iron door took up all of the far wall, and kettle was singing on the hob.

By the stove stood a young woman, hardly more than a girl, with long dark hair, very white skin, and very blue eyes. She turned as they entered and stared at them with open curiosity. "Why is it, Dune," she said, "that every woman you ever bring into this house looks like you've had to beat them to get them here?"

"This time it an't my doing," said Dunion holding his hands as if to surrender, "I swear it." He walked to the woman sitting on the bench and sat down next to her. "Is Namma with Mathon?"

Rose moved to the far side of the room, close to the only window and looked out it, though it was too murky to see much but the outlines of trees, then looked back at the scene before her.

The woman at the table nodded into the dough. "That's the only place she's ever at," she said. "She's as bad as you are."

Dunion stood up. "Come on," he said to Rose waving her forth.

"Shouldn't you let her eat first," the woman at the stove said, wagging her finger at Dunion. "I'm willing to bet you haven't even told her what's going on."

Wolf, who followed them in, whined at his feet. "Out, Wolf!" he commanded the dog. Wolf whimpered and scuffled to the doorway where she laid down and watch him with pleading eyes. Then to the woman he said, "You tell her, I'm going to see Namma." He walked away to an overhang of curtains and disappeared behind it, the woman at the table stood up and trailed after him.

"You can sit down," said the woman with dark hair, "you won't get the itches. No one here has had the itches here in years. I'm Abagail." Rose scowled at her and said nothing. "I've never thought nobility to be quite so boorish. Weren't you taught any better?"

Rose started and shook herself. "Yes, I was," she said lowly. "I was also taught not to wear trousers or to carry weapons, both of which I prefer."

Abagail smiled and twisted a lock of her hair, turning back to the stove. A moment later she walked over with two mugs of hot broth one of which she gave to Rose. "You shouldn't worry about weapons at the moment," she said taking a sip from the mug, "there's some fresh bread in the oven, and more to come."

Rose took a sip from the mug, it was sweet and warmed her down to her toes. Then Abagail cleared away the dough at the table and put down her own mug and drew the bread from the oven, and laid out good cheese and the pot of yellowy broth and a bowl of spiced chutneys, some cooked meats, a jug of ale and another of fresh springwater. Rose realized she was ravenous, and walked over the edge of bench and sat down. Abagail smiled at her when she sat down then vanished behind the curtain, she came back a moment later along with a crooked, old woman with silver hair and a very lined face, and the little boy who was being carried in Dunion arms.

Dunion looked around the room. "Trent come in, yet?"

Abagail shook her head, and Dunion swore loudly causing the boy to giggle. The old woman looked at him as if she wished to hit over the head with something and Rose was quite certain she would have, if he had not set the boy on the bench and walked out the house, Wolf following after him. The older woman looked at Rose and nodded her head in greeting.

"I'm named Ionia," the old woman said sitting heavily onto the bench. Her voice was delicate and kind. "Have all of my grandchildren been too rude to ask your name, dear?"

Rose put down her mug. "I'm called Rose," she said, deliberately eluding the question.

"Lovely," Ionia said, "That's lovely. Abagail, you mind pouring me some ale, it's too heavy and I can't reach it."

Abagail glanced heatedly at her grandmother as she had just sat down, and stood back up. "Of course not, Namma," she said.

The little boy began to fill his plate, and after pouring himself some water he grinned greedily at Rose. "I'm Cai," the boy said cheerfully, reaching across the table for a large slice of meat. "How many people have you killed?"

Rose started and, pushing her plate away as she was no longer hungry, stared at the boy- she wasn't the only person to do so. Abagail looked at him with a mix of horror and humor, and his grandmother looked at him almost blind with annoyance. "Caileon," Ionia said almost portentously, "That's not a polite question. Apologize."

Cai shuttered under her gaze and quickly apologized the same moment that Dunion returned from the sables with Trent. The two men sat down and filled their plates in silence. The boy said no more throughout the rest of the meal.

.

After the food had been cleared away, Dunion stood and pulled Rose by her arm to the curtain, she followed behind him angrily but quietly. Behind the curtain was a room that wasn't much bigger than the main room. It was occupied by a large bed, where a very small child lay in wrapped tightly in blanket and the blonde haired woman, Rose saw before, lay next to him, and there a chest at the end of the bed but nothing more. Dunion stopped next to the chest.

"There's food, Thelma," said Dunion. "Go eat. I'll watch him."

Thelma looked up, her eyes were dark and tired looking, and nodded. "You," she said to Rose. "Save my son, you took my husband from me. The least you owe me is my son's life." She slid off of the bed, taking one of many blankets with her, and walked out of the room.

Rose closed her eyes. "What had she meant when she said that I killed her husband?" she asked.

"In the Spine Pass you killed four men, do you remember that?"

Rose opened her eyes and glared with distaste. "It was not I who killed those men," she said, her tone harsh.

Dunion looked back at her emotionlessly, although she saw the muscles around his eyes flinch with distaste. "I was there," he said. "I saw you do magic. I saw you kill them."

Rose laughed. It was a cold, severe laugh very much unlike her own. "I don't know magic, even if I did it wouldn't have changed what has transpired. I didn't kill your friends, and I cannot heal the child," she said, more gently. "I do not know how to do so."

Dunion swore viciously, and Rose bit her lip. Her gaze caught his own she held it confidentially, as their will wrestling eachother. Neither of them moved. At the last, it was the man who desisted and looked down.

"My father once told that arrogance would be the Empire's downfall," he said slowly as the words burned him, "and that I should be wise enough to know when to strive and when to quit. I don't know what yer father taught you but that's what mine taught me." He looked out the small window over the bed. "I'm only asking ter try. Yer a Rider, you have ter 'cause its yer duty."


	34. Short Story 14

_______________________________I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.  
_The piece of poem below is called Romance of the Rose by William of Lorris, John of Meun, which I picked at random and wrote a short story around. I'll let you know now that I will not bother to try to write poems its simply too much work. Stories I will do- poems not a chance. This is a short story and ends the sort of series I've been doing on Rose and Ilbert, though I will write a thing from Ilbert point of veiw later. A hergaut is a style of cloak with lons full sleeves. This taked place about a year before Chapter 1.  
Enjoy,

* * *

_Dear Little Roe_

Rose looked up at the tower of books with a sigh, behind her she heard Cordelia chide her to not sigh as it was quite unladylike. Just to annoy Cordelia, she sighed again and pulled out, at complete random, a small book not much bigger than her hand. The book fell open in her hand to a page, illuminated in bright inks and gold leaf, with an untitled poem written by an elegant hand. On the facing page was picture of a landscape, with a silver river winding away through green fields mountains ghostly in the distance. In the foreground kneeled two young maidens both with an arms full of flowers and blossoms intertwined within their plaited hair, also with them a young man playing a flute, his head bent in concentration.

She began to read the poem silently, moving her lips as she read:

_Woman should gather roses ere  
Time's ceaseless foot o'ertaketh her,  
For if too long she make delay,  
Her chance of love may pass away-_

An icy splinter seemed to have lodged in Rose's heart as she read and before finishing the poem, she snapped the book shut and placed it forcibly back on the shelve. She turned away, her skirts swirling around her legs threatening to entangle her within their vastness of silk and lace, and walked briskly out of the Libraries. No one stopped her, it was very likely that Cordelia was quite glad to see her go, but even so the sound of pursuing footsteps were heard. She looked behind her and saw the guard, Wyn, as she had thought she might, following after her. She turned away, and hastened her steps.

The castle was eerie and deserted, as it always seemed to be in the winter months. The palace was usually a busy place, where people lived and made things and ate, but this time of year most of the inhabitants left for the warmer air of their winter manor. She wandered down the endless grand halls, around the pillars of stone and iron so big that the columns marched into the distances, and past many countless deeply set doors. At last, she came to the door she wished for, and with a sigh of relief she swung it open, breathing in the fresh air.

The sky was clear and painted in brilliant colors of gold and red, as the sun had clearly set moment before. She bit her lip and squinted through the blinding light reflecting from the snow. Before her glittered a long snow covered slope, muddling dugout paths carved out the artless fallen flurry allowing those who pleased to stroll the barren gardens, between this two low stone walls which met together farther down to form an arch.

Rose hastened her step, almost to a run, down a familiar path. Someplace between the tunnels of crawling ivy and the mazelike turns near the large courtyard where Lords and Ladies often met in the warmer months, the guard trailing her must have had taken a wrong turn as she no longer heard his deafening footsteps. Sometimes she would pass leafless beech and larch, and saw winter detritus of dead weed poking bravery out of the snow. Once, winding through the winding ways of the gardens, she emerged into a tiny court in which there was a marble fountain, with a brass statuette of a beautiful woman holding a ewer, out of which water once poured into a great pool. The brass woman was covered in a white mess of snow and the empty pool around it was clogged with died leaves. A cold wind made a thin whistle as it blew through the through the gasps of the structure.

Nothing stirred within her as she looked around the bleak, wintry absence. This cold, deserted place hardly matched her few memories, which were filled with color and light and delight, and once, and this something she scarcely thought about, a horrifying event. The bleakness filled her with an overpowering sorrow, yet she stood there as long she could bear the cold, breathing in the fresh air. The wind blew harshly, scattering snow and rustling the branches of the shadowing oak above her head, and an object swayed between arms of the sculpture blew in the wind.

She saw with a gasp of astonishment that an old, torn silk slipshoes was attached to the brass woman by a length of trimming, and she walked to the edge of the fountain and gracelessly bound over the edge. The leaves crunched under her feet, and she could feel the stems through the flimsy material of her slippers, as she wadded leafy pool. Rose had to stand on the tips of her toes to reach the slipshoes attached to curled hair of statuette. After fumbling with the ribbon to untie it, she decided it was that the light from the day had faded far too much and she yanked hard on the band until it broke and the slipshoes were sent scattering into the mass of leafs.

Rose kicked around in the leaves until she found the rutted slipshoes, and when she did she quickly snatched them up and hurried out of the pool, visualizing large, hairy spiders. Nearly laughing at herself for her foolishness, as there were no spiders crawling about in iciness of winter, she turned the shoes over and something fell out of one of them and went clattering onto the icy path into a swelling of snow. Without a delay, Rose chased after the object and stuck her hand into the snow, nearly squealing as she did so. It did not take long for her to pull out the object. Rose quickly pulled her numb hand out of the icy mush and turned the object over twice before clenching her hand and hiding it from view.

A vivid vision came to her mind of a young boy with curling hair, a teasing smile on his lips, as she threw the wooden toy at him. The toy had hit him on the head and left an angry mark on his forehead. He had been so angry with her that he had taken her slippers from the fountain, where she often placed them, and tied them together before placing the toy and her slippers out of her reach. She had walked back into the palace barefoot and gotten a thumping from Cordelia which completed, as the boy said jokingly the next time they met, his revenge.

"It's dreadfully cold out here, is it not, Muirgheal?" said a voice at her shoulder. Rose jumped with shock and turned around. Ilona was standing just behind her, her blonde hair swept up into an elegantly misshaped, beaded hat. "You were thinking no doubt about my brother?"

Rose saw no point in dissembling. "How is he fairing?" she said. "I have not heard from him in quite some time."

Ilona smiled, it was the very same smile that her brother often adopted when he about to do something incredibly foolish. "My brother doing as well as expected," she said, "though it'd help if he were not diverted by your countless letters."

"Is there a reason you are out here?" Rose asked, feeling her irritation rise. "As you said, it is dreadfully cold."

"I was following you," Ilona said with a shrug. She looked around the small court with a look of distaste. "You and Ilbert met here a quite a few times, yes?"

Rose narrowed her eyes. "Several," she said. "There must be a reason you were following me."

"There is," said Ilona, standing taller. "I heard about Tornac and his loss, and I wished to pass my condolences through you seeing that he left. It must be difficult knowing that someone you hardly trust is now following after where a trusted friend once had. Is his absence troubling you something terrible?" She waved her hand in the air. "I only ask because you seemed to be a dire state, when you running down the halls."

Tornac had left weeks ago to return to his childhood home to mourn the passing of his brother. He left Wyn to work in his absence and _he was, _thought Rose glancing about in search of guard, _doing a shameful job. _

Rose took a deep breath through her nose and clenched her fists tightly to her side. "I'll make sure to pass along your commiseration to Tornac, when I see him next," she said, her voice was as chilled as the air. "Is there anything else I might pass along as I seem to be playing the part of a messenger?"

Ilona looked up thoughtfully, her tongue wedged between her teeth. "There is not a thing that I can think of at this moment," she said. "Would you like to walk back with me? It's dreadfully dark and you're shivering something awful."

It was getting dark. The stars dotted in a hard brilliance over a deep-blue field. The air was freezing but, now, very still. Rose shivered and looked at Ilona's fur-lined hergaut with a ping of regret.

Very slowly she nodded, and Ilona laced her arm through Rose's as if they close friends strolling in the gardens, then they welded their way through the gardens.

"What is it that you found?" Ilona asked after a moment of walking.

Rose looked over at the shadowed figure was Ilona, she did not answer for a time and continued to walk. "An old toy of Ilbert's, I suppose you wish to have it," she said.

"May I see it?"

There was catch in Ilona's voice that Rose had never heard before, and without pause Rose handed the wooden toy to her. Ilona took turned it over in her hand, squinting the dim light, then very softly she began to laugh.

"A little roe deer," she said shoving the toy in back at Rose. "You should keep it. I remember my brother playing with this, and I am correct my brother gave it to you. He would wish for you to keep it." There was a long silence. "How are you fairing?" Ilona asked.

Rose paused. "Very well, thank you," she said, fingering the toy. "Why do you ask?"

"You are my brother's friend, for reasons that are beyond me," she said. "It's my responsibility to ask after you when he is not here to do so himself."

Rose smashed her lips together and refused to say anything more to Ilona until they reached the doors to the palace. As the two girl slipped inside, they said their farewells and deliberately went different ways though their chambers were not far apart.

Once outside her chamber, Rose held the wooden toy into the light and looked it over. The toy was weather-beaten and part of its antler was missing but it was as Ilona had said a little roe deer. Rose smiled slightly and opened the door to her chambers and walked to polished wooden box, and after opening it, she placed the little roe inside next to a golden ring with a sigh. She threw the slipshoes in the fire.


	35. Short Story 15

_________________________________I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.  
A short story. Enjoy,_

* * *

_Fear_

Selena was awoken by a shrill screaming that ripping through the air. Instantly, the woman scrambled to her feet, breathing hard, her bare feet slipping over the slick silk of her skirts. Her hands twitched for her belt where she usually kept her knives, but they were not there. The knives were in her room inside the castle. Her husband's cosseted fortress. She was in the gardens. She was safe. There was no reason for alert, but then who was screaming? She let her hands fall to her side, and taking deep breathes to calm the blood raging through her body, she looked at the source of the squealing. Inbetween weaving clumps of roses was her daughter on her hands and knees, mere feet away from Selena. The girl's shrieking broke the air.

Selena's heart constricted. She half scrambled, half fell to the ground in front her daughter, fighting a rising fear as she looked the child over. Clearly the girl has been playing within the forest of flora as her dress was dirtied with stains, and threads were loosen from sagging thorns but, aside from a small scrap, her daughter was unharmed.

"Are you hurt?" Selena asked, almost not knowing that she had been the one to speak the words.

With wide eyes, Muirgheal met her mother's gaze. The child whimpered, her bottom lip jutted out and quivering. Selena felt her stomach tighten. Slowly, agonizingly slow as nightmares were, the girl shook her head.

A breath that Selena didn't know she was holding blew out of her mouth, and her shoulders sagged with relief. Her eyebrows scrunched together, creating a creasing across her forehead. She gave her daughter a long look. "What is it, then?"

The girl crawled into her lap. "It won't come off!" she exclaimed, shaking her hand violently.

A hundred different thoughts ran across Selena's head in a single moment, leaving feeling slightly dizzy and unsure of what exactly the thoughts were. She shook her head to clear it. "What won't come off?" she said. "Let me see."

Muirgheal looked at Selena, her dark eyes wet with tears. "It won't come off," she repeated.

Selena felt her tempter rising, mixing with concern, with a great effort she pushed her ill humor away. "Let me see, Muirgheal," she said gently.

Gradually, the child lifted up her hand for her mother to see. Muirgheal's hand was shaking in nervousness.

Selena looked at her daughter's hand and her heart lifted. A soft smile played at her lips and she relaxed, feeling for the first time the dewy moisture of the grass through her skirt, and the gentle wind blowing strands of hair against her lips, and the sweet scent of roses and jasmine that sickened the air piquantly to the extent that it made her nose itch. Selena gently removed the frightening creature from the child's pink knuckles. "This is what frightened you so?" she said, cradling the caterpillar her hands between them.

Muirgheal looked the young bug and startled back, falling out of Selena's lap and into the grass. She rolled onto her stomach and met her mother's entertained gaze. "What is it?" she whispered frightfully.

Selena laughed at her. "It's a caterpillar, you silly girl. They turn into butterflies," she said, delighted. "You like butterflies."

Her daughter's eyes widened and she recoiled. "No!"

The caterpillar crawled across Selena's palm, tickling her with its many legs.

Selena leaned over and stroked her child's soft, pinkened cheeks. It was a dreary day, in the least she didn't have to fret about her daughter's skin becoming red from the sun's touch. Selena was not worried about her own skin, which was already well acquainted with blazing day's light from the many days she spent in wildness, hunting and pursuing whatever impractical task her husband's twisted mind came up with for her to do. Her husband, though, was away on his own trip and would not be back for some time. This was a delightful thought.

For an unmeasured period, Selena would be able to see, play, and talk to her child as she pleased without a concern. Selena would also be able to meet someone else she loved, tonight and the next night, without worrying about her husband catching them- this thought sent prickling thrills throughout her body and she wiggled. But when he when did come back, he would surely pop her bubble of happiness that seems to have formed, and she would have to leave her child and her home and the one she loved. For now, though, she was quite determined not think of any of that because now, while she could, she needed to focus on her daughter.

Selena looked at her frightened daughter closely, and a rush of grief rose up inside her. _All this fright over a tiny caterpillar,_ she thought humorlessly.

Slowly, so the child could see her actions, she took her hand away from her daughter's cheek and enveloped it gently around the child's wrist. "Come here, cricket," said Selena gently. "Let me show you that there's nothing to be afraid of." She gave her daughter a gently tug. Muirgheal shook her head, her hair beat the air around her face, refusing to come any closer to the dreadful caterpillar. Though after some coaxing Selena was able to get her daughter to sat up and scoot across from her. Their knees were inches apart and the child was leaning away but it was enough, for now.

The brightly colored caterpillar wriggled across Selena's cupped hands over the gap between their knees. As the caterpillar moved, Muirgheal flinched away from it falling back on her hands. Muirgheal squeezed her eyes shut.

Selena frown deepened. "Don't be afraid, Muirgheal," she said.

Ever eager to please, as all small children were, Muirgheal swallowed her tears. After a short moment, the child opened her eyes and looked into her mother's face searchingly.

"There's my brave girl," said Selena. "He's not going to hurt you. See?"

Muirgheal blinked and looked down at the fuzzy creature inching across her mother's hands. Her bottom lip wobbled.

A stubborn resolve took hold of Selena, her body felt like a rock, and her jaw set. She forced herself to sit, to hardly move, for what felt like a very long time. As her daughter studied the caterpillar, Selena in return studied her daughter; the shape of her lips, how her dark hair spilled over her shoulders and how it seemed to have grown since the last time they saw eachother, the roses in her cheeks, the pale freckles that danced across her nose, the stormy grey of her eyes- things that she would miss later, things that she would not see slowly alter because she was not there to witness it. She felt tears prickle at her eyes and blinked them away.

Selena hadn't been prepared for how much she loved her child, for how much she wanted to protect her daughter from anything and everything that might hurt or frighten her, and the breathtaking disappointment when she could not. She hadn't thought she _would_ love any child but now she knew without a single doubt knew she would do mad things to protect what was her own. Her free hand fluttered to her necklace and she forced herself to lower it with a shake of her head. Motherhood was a beautiful and terrible curse. How could she cope with this agony to do what she needed to do? Surely, it would kill her.

Shaking her thoughts away, Selena watched as her child's scrunched up face faltered and relaxed. Muirgheal reached out her hand, and after glancing quickly at her mother, she brushed the tips of Selena's finger tips.

"I don't like it," said Muirgheal, pulling her hand away with a sudden smile. "Make it go away. Far, Far away!"

Selena sighed then smiled for her daughter's benefit. She stood up, careful not to jolt the caterpillar too much, and took her daughter's hand in her own. "Help me find a safe place to put him," she said.

Muirgheal pointed behind them.

Selena looked away, to the hide her smile as she silently laughed. "I don't think so," she said, after she mastered herself. "Let's find a safer place than the fountain."

Her daughter looked up at her and frowned.

Guiding her child, Selena strolled down the cobbled path, past the hundred bobbing heads of roses. When she had first come here, she had been in love with idea of love and romance and passion, and so when Morzan asked her if there was any flowers she might like in the garden her first response had been roses. Before her life here, she had only seen the flowers in the wild, feral and untamed, their wiry briar-like branches ascending into the sky with colored globes of disfigured silk petals- a wild and powerful beauty. Yet they had been, oh, so beautiful and she had been in love with them. And, now, her daughter was running her hand across the petals with a distant look on her face, as she once had.

Selena hoped her daughter would not grow to be a fantasist; that she would still dream, of course, but not as she had. If there was one thing Selena hoped Muirgheal took after her father in, it would be his ability look at all the facts and see the reality of the situation, to be brave enough, not foolish so, to step forth and toil through it. It was, perhaps, one of the few things that Selena thought to be decent in Morzan even if he used it for bloodshed and violence, in the very least he had it.

At last they came to a stop and Selena knelt down, extending her hand out so that the wooly caterpillar could wander onto a leaf. She glanced at her daughter, who was watching her actions carefully, though tense as if she were readying herself to run. Selena smiled sadly and swung herself around so that they were facing eachother. Muirgheal looked at her and she showed her daughter her hands.

"The caterpillar didn't hurt me," she said. "He didn't hurt you, either, only scared you."

Muirgheal turned her mother's hands over, searching for any injury and after seeing none she traced her fingers over a jagged scar on Selena's palm. The girl nodded and stepped away.

"Do you wish to go back inside?" Selena said after a moment.

The child shook her head. "No."

Selena didn't think she would want to as Muirgheal sent most of her time inside that castle. "What would you like to do, then?"

Muirgheal shrugged and pointed down the path. "Keep going?"

"We can keep going," said Selena.

With a happy smile, the mother took her daughter's and they strolled down the path. Now that Muirgheal was away from the fiendish caterpillar, she chatted happily and Selena hardly got a word out, but she happy listen to her daughter's chattering. It was easy to listen to do and so, oh, so much in her life has been a struggle that it was a great relief to have something simple and ordinary to do. Difficulties would come soon enough, why should she not enjoy this little piece of happiness while she could?


	36. Chapter 21

_________I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
Enjoy,_

* * *

**The Lone Farmhouse**

Rose looked at the child's flushed face, suddenly she felt very tired and realized with a staggering alarm that she was incredibly angry. She inhaled and held her breath until her head as if were about to spin then very slowly she blew out, as if to release her anger.

She took another deep breath, and then said, "You are the only one to know of what I am, yes?"

"Yeh," Dunion said from somewhere behind her. "I an't gonna tell anyone either, lady, you an't got ter worry about that."

Rose felt speechless, and she looked over her shoulder at Dunion "What is it that you expect me to do?" said she.

"I don't know," Dunion said with a shrug. "Heal him or something."

_How?_ The word came to her lips almost without her knowing, but she was able to swallow her retort. She looked over the face of the boy once more. Feeling herself flush, Rose very slowly sat down on the bed next to the child. The flimsily made bed was shaking from the child's violent tremors, and as Rose studied him, she could see that his eyes were moving rapidly from underneath his eyelids as the fever warped his dreams. The boy looked to be hardly out his first year of life, and yet his skin was yellowed and creased like an elderly man's from his burning fever.

Rose experimentally ran her fingers through his wispy hair, he was very hot to the touch, and his skin burned the tips of her fingers. Fretful, she bit her lip until she tasted blood and drew her hand back, folding her hands onto her lap.

Children were often the innocent ones, yet, they were fated to participate in the hard game of chance in which many did not survive but some did, and later in life they played victim to their parent's beliefs and crimes. Would this toddler be better off if she left? He, surely, would be not recover with her staying? Yet, she saw no reason as why she should not try to help the toddler. If she did perhaps, she could leave peacefully and return to Thorn, wherever he might be. However it was more than likely that the man would ask more from her, though she had nothing to give.

Rose knew exactly what the man was asking her to do, though it was unachievable for her to do so not without further knowledge in the Ancient Language, which was something that Ailis refused to give her. Though she could not heal the child magically, perhaps there was a way to reduce his burning fever. Rose bit her lip in deliberation, and thought for anything she might know. There was something, though she had learned it long ago, that her former nursemaid had thought her in preparation for when someday she might become a mother herself. Rose had at the time thought to disregard the information, as she sure she would never need it as a mother for her children would be cared for by a nursemaid as she had been. However she remembered it or perhaps, the only reason she recalled it was because the child kicked her.

She stood up mindful to not shake the bed and walked to the chest, where a basin filled with cool water rested, then she withdrew the old rags from the water and wrung them out before walking back to the bed. She tried her best to ignore Dunion, who was standing in the corner of the room watching her every movement as she uncovered the toddler and wrapped the damp rags around each of his ankles but her movements were jerky from his endless scrutiny.

"That is all I can do at the moment," said Rose as she recovered the small child with the thin blankets.

"You an't gonna do anything else?" he asked.

Rose shot him a fierce look and stepped away. "There is nothing more I can do," she said as calmly as she could.

Dunion cursed and looked as if he might say something more but Abagail walked in, bringing with her a beaten iron ewer of water smelling of lemon grass and mint, an empty bowl, and some cloths. She carefully set the ewer on the ground close to chest and placed the basin next to it then she met at her brother's cross glare.

"Don't look at me like that," Abagail said. "Namma's in there badgering me about the lady's state. Really, Dune, didn't you think she would?"

Dunion pressed his lips together and looked Rose over as if she were livestock. "Yeh, I did," he said easily. "I'll be out there, if you need me: holler."

Abagail nodded in understanding as Dunion gave Rose a piercing look, clearly warning her not to try anything she might regret, before leaving the room. Forcibly, Abagail opened the chest and bent over it as she shuffled through it. After a time she stood up with a dress and long, grey sleeveless tunic which had several ties running down the sides, carefully draped in her arms. The respectful way Abagail held the raiment out towards Rose alerted her that the dress was precious, though she could see nothing special about it. The dress was made of a fine wool, Rose did not recognize, and dyed a blue so dark it might have been black, yet despite its strange color the dress it was rather simple. Gallingly, Abagail made clicking noises with her tongue until Rose took the dress. When Rose took the garment from her, Abagail then placed the sleeveless tunic and ewer and basin on top of the chest and walked to the side of the bed where she sat down and began to stroke the toddler's sticky face.

Rose meekly touched the soft material, then stood up and, after insuring that Abagail was not watching her, she poured the water into the bowl, and with intense relief washed herself properly for the first time in days. There was some soap in the bowl, and with it she washed her hair and dealt with the cuts on her arms and face. They were not very serious, though they stung from the harshness of the soap. Then she drew the dress over her head, it was too long on her and pooled slightly around her feet. She didn't know what to do with her dirty clothes and did not feel like asking, so she folded them up and placed them on the chest next to the empty ewer, picking up the gray tunic and slipping it over the dress. Silently, she put on a pair of stocking and examined her boots which were looking worse for wear. She wondered if she should switch them for the new pair in her packs back at the farmhouse when she returned there. Putting that particular problem aside, she began the slow business of untangling her hair- some of it almost matted like felt. She finally managed to rid herself of most of the knots, and looked up. Abagail had fallen asleep, sprawled out next to the child.

The meal and the fresh clothing made Rose's exhaustion overwhelming, and she fought back a yawn. She studied the foot of the bed for a long moment in debate before she lay down, intending on a short rest while she could. She wondered how Dunion had known what she was, and how he had seen Thorn, she wondered what else was known. She had thought that Thorn had been well concealed, but clearly it was not so, and if she and Thorn where apparent that they seemed to be, then they were certainly in peril… worrying vaguely around these thoughts, she drifted into a deep sleep.

She woke up with a start and immediately sat up, instantly alert. The room was much darker, and the candle that had burned in the shelf of the window was now absent; she must have been asleep for hours. Rose sent out her mind in search of Thorn but felt nothing. She sighed and rubbed her eyes. Slipping off the bed, she slid on her boots and picked up her clothing from off the chest. Walking as quietly as she could to the curtain, she listened for any sounds that might alert her that someone was awake but heard nothing except for the sounds of the night, crickets chirping in the grasses and the threatening hoot of an owl and the soft snores of the people who lived in the house.

After a moment of hesitation, Rose poked her head around the curtain and glanced around. Two figures slept close to the door making it impossible to open and escape out of, and the windows were too high and small to crawl out of. With a resigned sigh, she stepped back and sunk down to the ground to wait. There was nothing else to do. It was not long until exhaustion crept up on her again, and she lay down and drifted into sleep.

.

When Rose next opened her eyes, she knew she had dreamed but was without any memory of dreaming. What woke her was hunger; her stomach felt barren and grumbled and twisted anxiously. She sat up and, with a glance around her, brushing the dirt and straw off herself. Rose stood up slowly, as she was stiff from sleeping on the ground, listening to the sounds that sailed through the air: the cluck of chickens scratching the soil, a couple of women chatting in the crisp dialect of the west, the low of cattle drifting the distance, the _cark cark_ of crows. A warm late-morning light shifted through the aperture and tempted her to wander outside. She stretched lazily then walked over the narrow window and, lifting herself up on her tips of her toes, she looked out.

Now that the haze had lifted she could see that the house rested on what was once a rich and fertile farming country. Numberless wildflowers carpeted low peaty hills; mixtures of bluebells, yellow and orange bird's-foot trefoil, purple and white flowers that Rose did not recognize, and grainy reed grass bobbled in the wind. In the distance lone farmhouses lay blighted in neglected fields of gray fungus, which meant the corn or wheat would never be gathered and eaten. Further away was a dim flickering and a curl of grey smoke rose from a fire too far off to be properly seen.

With a sigh, Rose turned away and walked to the side of the bed where the boy and his mother lay. Thelma looked calm with her eyes closed, stroking the toddler's head with her crooked fingers. The toddler, Rose noticed, was no longer damp with sweat and his lips were cracked and desiccated. People could recover from a wet fever, she knew, but a dry fever would kill. Rose looked at the child's flushed face with regret, she was sure he would not recover. Children often died of sickness or accident or for no reason at all, and so there was no reason for her to feel culpable, not in the least.

Rose shifted uneasily and walked to the doorway. She heard someone scuff their boots against the straw littered floor as she pushed the curtain, looking towards the source of the noise. Standing tensely by the edge of the entry, she watched the man closely. Her assailant was wearing the same worn and tired clothes as the day before, it was obvious that he not washed. He was poking the fire in the opened oven with a long metal stick. After a short time he seemed to become aware of Rose. He turned his head and looked directly at her.

After a moment, Rose looked up into his face and despite herself, grinned rather deviously. A grim sort of delight bloomed in her belly when she saw that the area around his eye she had punched him was swollen with discoloration, and there was a large bruise close to his ear where she cuffed him. It took her a moment to recognize that she proud of the injuries she had caused him, and when did she realize this she felt a burning dismay and forced herself to turn away. She sensed rather than saw his eyes on her, reviewing her wear as if for the first time grasping she was in fact a woman and how it was not courteous to strike a woman. _Not that, _Rose thought silently to herself,_ these men knew the meaning of the word "chivalrous" and how to abide by its rules and laws._

Rose switched her gaze towards the table where half a loaf of bread and some cheese was set out on a plate, and next to the plate was mug with insipid liquid. Meager, though the food was, it made her mouth water. She did not ask whether the food and drink was meant for her, the thought of doing so brushed against the remains of her vanity in a very unpleasant way.

She took a seat on the bench and slowly reached for the bread, the air had hardened the crust of the bread yet it had not taken away from its sweet taste. Rose wondered whether people who lived here had the luxury to sugar, it seemed unlikely, though the dinner prepared the night before avowed that they were not in complete poverty. Mussing over her thoughts, she took a bit of the cheese which was as sharp as the bread was sweet.

She swallowed. "Where has everyone gone to?" she asked. If it there was only Trent and the mother and toddler within the house, perhaps she could run and meet with Thorn sooner than she hoped.

"Meybe workin', meybe out gettin' 'em shields," he said, "er meybe their gettin' a loop fer yeh themselves, like I suggested."

Rose nodded as if she completely agreed with his proposal of looping her, as he called it. "Everyone is outside, then," she said.

"Imma knowing what yer thinkin', girlie, and it an't gonna work," said Trent.

"There's nothing stopping me from leaving," Rose said indigently. "The road is just over there."

"Yeh can try," said Trent with a casual shrug. "I think yeh might it interestin'."

Rose pressed her lips together and took a large gulp of the liquid in the mug: it was a bitter liquor that went down into her belly like fire. She choked as a harsh aftertaste stung her mouth and burned her palate. Warmth thrilled through her body all the way to her toes, and for a second she wondered if she was going to be unwell. Blinking, she pushed the liquor away from her, and coughed breathlessly until the flame passed.

"Can't handle mead?" asked Trent, sniggering.

Contemptuously Rose kept her gaze from him and drank from the cup again, this time she didn't choke. Sip by sip, she finished the mug and set it down on the table. She felt a little dizzy now, if a little lightheaded, and slowly she swung her legs over the bench and put her feet on the ground.

She stood up and walked to the open door, her legs felt wobbly and weak and she instantly regretted drinking that mead as it caused her to stumble with unbalance. Though Rose heard Trent following after her, she kept walking until she the sun heated her face. She now stood in the doorway, looking up at the sky watching what might have been a vulture fly lithely above. For a long moment she stood there, watching the creature glide in aimless circles. In a thickly vegetated garden not far from the farmhouse were its occupants, laughing and joking as they labored. She listened to them for a moment longer than necessary and with a resigned sigh she walked back inside the dwelling. She missed Thorn, and she wondered when they would next see eachother, and without him her leaving this place seemed all too unlikely.

Rose stayed in the secluded farmhouse another two days. She spent most of her time with Abagail, with whom she struck up a very unexpected camaraderie. In Abagail's company, she could forget of the reasons as to why she was there, a Dragon Rider confined in a lewd building in a feeble hope that a child could be healed. She could pretend that she was just a young girl without much more to worry about than the day's tasks or gossip and that her past was not her own, that it belong to someone else entirely. Although Abagail had not been raised in the manner of refined dignity, her grandmother had taught her some of the practice: she knew few of the great lays by heart though she could not read. She could be, Rose had thought, a great scholar if she wished to. Rose, who cherished reading, had carved out some runes in the dirt with a stick, showing them and explaining their meanings to Abagail.

"I don't think I want to read," she said ruefully, looking at the runes. "It seems to me to be an uninspiring use of time. What good is reading stories, when there is so much work to be done? I like doing these things, it makes feel like I've accomplished something at the end of the day." She glanced at Rose, as if daring her to disagree, but Rose privately understood what she was saying; the fact was, Abagail did in fact have many things to do. Abagail silently returned to her sewing.

Rose subsided and threw the stick onto the ground. "There is no shame in not knowing something," she quoted. _The shame in not willing to learn_, but she left these words unspoken and instead turned to dampen the sickly boy's face. He was not fairing any better nor was he any worse.

_There is nothing that you can do._

The voice fell so lightly in her mind that at first she thought it to be her own, and she almost laughed at her own foolishness. _I know_, she replied. Her stomach turned over, as the presence of him entered her mind. _Where have you been?_

She felt Thorn sway due to a sudden current of wind. _Hunting_, he said plainly. She felt his concern and his relief at finding her through their mindlink. _When I returned to the meadow, I could not find you and I flew over those building in search of you. You were not there, so I flew over the lands. I've been flying for days and nights looking for you. Where have you been?_

She leaned back on her hands and the boy kicked out violently. _I've been here,_ said Rose, _mostly._ She told the whole tale of what had happened since their separation that one afternoon through a jumble of words and images. Thorn listened attentively, and did not interrupt once. _Never before have I been so cross_ _that I had not realized that I was angry,_ Rose said after she finished reviewing the events that landed her at the isolated farmhouse_. It troubles me as I seemed to have lost control of the words that came out of my mouth. _She started as she felt Thorn's amusement running through her. _There is hardly anything amusing about this situation, Thorn!_

_No,_ he said in merriment, _there is not. Are you all right?_

_As all right as I can be,_ she said. _It's hardly wise to stay here. These people believe I slay someone they loved, and no matter what I say I cannot seem to reason with them._

_Do you believe that you can get away from them?_

Despite knowing that Thorn couldn't see the action, she shook her head. _Not at this moment,_ she said.

_When then?_ said Thorn in sudden irritation. _I want you back._

Rose looked around the room and bit her lip. Carefully she examined his intentions, then said, _I don't desire my being here either, Thorn, but this predicament is not a simple one._ She paused and ringed her fingers around her wrists. _How far away are you?_

With a snort through their mindlink, Thorn sent her a vision of where he was, which was not far. Below him was a crumbling wall painted a faded blue with a sun that was once yellow, Rose remembered passing the wall days before, there a scoured house not far from it. In the distance was the dwelling, Rose was at, with a small building to its left which she had assumed to the sables. Though looking at the sables through Thorn's eyes Rose saw that it was not quite big enough to be called a sable nor a barn as it was only slightly bigger than large shed.

_I'll see you soon_,_ my friend,_ she promised.

Rose's mind was briefly flooded with Thorn's anger and fright and desolation, but when he spoke in her him his voice was fierce with assurance. _I'll be watching you, little one, _he said, then she was suddenly pushed out and the mindtouch was closed. She tried to reach him again, a few times, but the dragon didn't respond. Dejected and uncomfortable, at last she turned away from the child and stood up. She hadn't realized before how much she missed Thorn's presence.

.

In the afternoon that day, the wind shifted and strengthened, and a bank of dark clouds began to build on the western horizon. The people of the house had left, to prepare the farm for the storm, leaving Rose to sit sweating and bored at the table, as it was the only place she was out of the way. She used the stick to trace runes in the dirt, sentences of nonsense and silly rubbish that made her quite thankful no one there besides herself knew how to read.

The weather steadily worsened all day until the people were working through a driving rain and the wind was almost gale force. Toward evening, the little boy called Cai stumbled into the house with a long reed in his hands and he sat down beside her, a puddle of water dipped off of his clothing and onto the floor. Soon after Cai came in, so did the others and Trent who had been sitting in the corner of the room stood up and opened the door. At that moment an outburst from the storm slammed the door on its hinges, and a blast of spray-laden wind sent the soaked him almost instantly. Rose turned her attention to Cai, as he began to drill holes in the reed with a small knife to make, as he told her, a flute.

Once more she reached out her mind to Thorn, and sighed with relief as the dragon merged in mindtouch with her. As he merged his mind with Rose's, a bright crackling of lighting flashed across the sky and a roaring of thunder shook the house. Somewhere outside came the sound of Wolf as she began to howl at an upcoming intruder.


	37. Short Story 16

___________________________________I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.  
At last I finished something! This is a short story- a different one.  
(I should mention that I rewrote the first chapter, I kept some of it, to allow it to flow better into the story which it does. If you have a spare moment take the time to read it.)  
Enjoy,_

* * *

_Night Tales_

"Once, long ago, there lived a man whom borne no name. For when he came into this world his mother lay her hand upon his brow and let out a terrible sound, a terrible curse. And how she cursed him! And when the curse was complete and the newly born babe's fate was set firmly into the Stones of Destiny, they both began to weep. For what kind of mother was she to unlove her child so?  
"And now it happened as the boy grew, and the world began to seemed so big and so small, and sky seemed to be but a blotch of blue and the rivers below strands of silk, that his mother was lifted to emptiness of after where time is an egg and there is only above and below, or before and behind, or deep or through or wide, that the boy began to fill with sorrow. And he did not believe that mother unloved him so. Now, time passed and the boy grew still and the land where his mother tamed the wild plants untamed, and the boy became hungry. But the boy could not eat for he did not know what plants he could cultivate and what plants would taint his body. And so as his belly seemed to carve itself out and his body became frail like that of an old man's, the boy set out down the hill where he lived and walked for a very long time.  
"Well, eventually the boy happened across a village, and as he walked into the village many people stared at him for they had never before seen human that they did not know, and the fact was that he looked very mad indeed. But one man, who had once had a sister who went missing into the wood years ago, recognized the boy as one of his kin and took him into his care and fed him. For a time the boy weak and did not know that there was a thing different about this place."

Brom pulled out a pipe from his pack and began to carve a tiny pattern on its side.

"But it happened one day as the boy began to regain his strength, and his uncle asked him for his name as before the boy was too weak to speak but the boy could not say for he did not know, and so the uncle decided to give the boy a name himself and as soon as the name he choose left his lips it became forgotten. And so as the boy grew into a man, he began to wonder as to why it was that he did not have a name and the thought consumed him like a fire and he began to burn with unlove for he could not eat nor could he sleep for his thoughts that enraged him so.  
"So it happened that the people of the village thought as he did and they too wondered as to why it was that the boy could not be given a name and they began to eschew him. But not every person behaved so. It was at this time that the boy –now man- knew that his mother unloved him for he bore no name when a beautiful young maiden began to seek for his affection but he did not notice for he was so engulfed in his woe.  
"And more time passed and the maiden became saddened for the man did not love her and the man's bitterness grew for he could not have a name. One day, as the maiden had heard many tales of an enchantress who lived high in the mountains and deep in the wood, she bundled herself in furs and trekked up the mountains and traveled through the wood and she did not stop for two days and one night. Then at last, the maiden came to the home of the enchantress and found that the enchantress was there outside the home waiting for her for the enchantress knew of the maiden's mission. 'I cannot give you what you seek,' said the enchantress to the maiden. 'You have wasted both my time and your own. Now go away!' and the enchantress tried to send the maiden away.  
"But the maiden had traveled so very far and she hungry and she was tired and she did not want to go away, and so she turned to the enchantress and stared into the enchantress' eyes and said 'I have two coins of gold and a bundle fur from a newly born lamb and you cannot turn me away.' And the enchantress looked at her very angrily for she could not do as the maiden wished to but the enchantress ruminated for a moment and at last she said, 'I cannot not concoct the devotion you seek, and I cannot give your beloved a name for he is cursed. But there is one thing I can do.' And the enchantress walked away into her home and when she came back she gave the maiden a filled vial, and the enchantress took the two coins of gold and the bundle of fur from a newly born lamb. 'If you give this to the man without a name he will forget his anger and perhaps than he will love you," said the enchantress. 'Beware however, young maiden, that he may never love you as you wish he will and a terrible pain will befall him.' But the maiden did not believe the enchantress' warning and she thanked the enchantress before she left to give the man the vial.  
"When at last the maiden returned to her village she found the man, and with a lie that if he were to drink he would be able to be named, the maiden gave the vial to him. And the man took it eagerly and drank the contents but he was not able to give himself a name. Instead the man opened his mouth to speak he felt a terrible pain, as if his whole being had been thrown into a furnace, and he let out a terrible scream and the man was no more."

Brom paused and looked up from his carving, his knife-hand frozen in midstroke. For a moment he stared into a pair of eager eyes before he returned to his carving and story.

"Well, it happened that the man was thrown into a state of unbeing and no longer desired a name for he had not the mind to think, nor the voice to speak. But the man did not want the pain or the change of being an unbeing and the enchantment split, with a terrible noise like the sound of the whole world cracking, and one half of his being remained with him and the other half left him forever. And ever since half-unbeing has been content for he desired a name no more, and the maiden has been unhappy."

There was a very long silence, apart from Brom's carving.

_Is that it?_ asked Saphira.

"Yes," said Brom, nodding. "That is it."

Saphira nudged him with her snout when he said nothing more, and he turned to her with a laugh.

"What more do you want me to say?" he said, putting aside his knife. "That they lived happily for the rest of their days?"

_It is a sad ending,_ said the dragon. _Perhaps it needs a happier ending._

Brom looked at her long body and shrugged. "Perhaps the man's mother shouldn't have cursed him in the beginning."

_Perhaps._ Her bluish green scales shone silver in the fading light.

"I should go, Saphira," said he standing up, "before I get into trouble again. Sleep well."

The dragon blew a smoldering dark gray cloud at him. _Good night, little one._

Brom stuffed his knife and pipe into a rucksack, and threw it over his shoulder. With quick, quiet steps he walked out of the Dragon Hold, and then he turned back to looked at his dragon and ran back inside. "Good night," he said, rubbing the scales on her massive snout and then he left.


	38. Chapter 22

___________I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
The most words, as of yet, are in this. I'm not lying when I say that I could dance with pure happiness because this chapter is finished! All that ran through my head while writing this was _Humpty-Dumpty-___________ hence the title.  
There are two different storylines, three including Eragon's, that are happening. The third I'm hammering out the details for and those will one day be posted.  
As always, enjoy,_

* * *

**The King's Men**

As Rose felt her way into the mind of Thorn, she saw the familiar pattern of his thoughts, the formal shape of his mind. Slipping into his mind was like trying to read a book of poems in a language she hardly understood. She could perceive the grammar, the syntax, the recurring words, the shape of the verses, but the meaning was beyond her. Gradually a pattern of enormous complexity opened up before her and she could understand the consequence of his different emotions and thoughts, and she was able to shape her mind to his own. His senses were colored by overwhelming emotions, and she immediately felt both his fear and determination.

A howling-like cry started her out of her mending and for a moment Rose panicked as she could no longer feel Thorn and she hastily gathered up her mind jabbed out blindly for his presence. The next thing she knew was the overwhelming of a new sensation, the sense of smell; her tongue and her nose were suddenly flooded with odors, the fresh steady scent of rain and the crisp, green smell of trampled grass and waving leaves. The sky above her rumbled angrily, and she could hear the vociferous wind rattle the leaves and crack the branches. She felt the splashing of rain as it beat against her scales and streams of water as it ran down her sides in glossy rivulets, and yet she did not feel its wetness. Moisture gathered under the lids of her eyes, and her tail was switching across the mucky ground in long, smooth movements. There was a faint tang in the air, like the smell of burnt metal that left a sour taste in her mouth. She flickered their tongue out between her dagger sharp teeth, tasting the air.

Just as she perceived this, Rose realized that was seeing and hearing and feeling what Thorn did, and it unnerved her and a tickling cold shivered down her spine. Rose gently pulled away from his mind so that their thoughts were barely touching and they were each their own person again and then she opened her eyes, blinking at the dim golden light spinning into the room. Neither Thorn nor Rose said anything, there was no need to as there no words to say, only a silent agreement from the complete mending of their minds.

Their mind-mending had taken very little time, and when Rose glanced around she saw that Trent was now struggling to get the door closed, and Dunion had come to assist him. She stood and peered outside through the door with interest. It seemed to her that the heavens theirselves were in a boiling dispute: shapeless masses warped and collapsed in theirselves and twirled about like lazing birds of prey. There was a rage of thunder, the sound was almost deafening, and a flicker of greenish blue light as the skies exploded in a dazzling radiance. Rose gripped the whittled edging of the table, as the wind roared into the house the sickly child awoke from his sleep with a baying wail. She remembered a prayer she had recited numberless times throughout her childhood, and she whispered it now in a frantic rush. The prayer did not make her feel any safer, only certain that she was mad to even consider going out in that bedlam.

At last the men got the door closed, though Trent seemingly chose to forgo his trip into the lashing outdoors instead choosing to seat himself at the table. Rose caught him looking down at the runes she had written in the dirt and how his face twisted in an inexplicable expression. "What's awl this rubbish?" said he nudging at the words with his foot , as if the runes might turn onto iniquitous snakes that would surely bite him with their noxious fangs.

Dunion sat down next to Rose, his back facing the table. She glanced at him with her eyes and shifted away, watching with the people with mild exasperation. The wailing coming from the child in the next room did not help her humor any as it made the conversion rather hard to hear, and her ears and head began to ache.

Both Cai and Abagail looked up from their tasks and glanced at the words Rose had written curiously. Abagail shrugged and returned to her task. "They're called words, Trent," she said.

Cai's eyebrows shoot up into his hairline. "Words?" he said, studying them with interest. "What do they say? Do they tell ah story?"

"That yer gonna be eaten by ah ogre if yeh don't mind yer own business," Trent growled, turning away. "Only fools tell stories."

"I'm not gonna be eaten by no ogre!" Cai exclaimed, still looking at the words. "Ogres don't exist! Abagail, tell him ogres don't exist!" He looked meaningfully at his sister.

Abagail didn't look up from the vegetables. "Ogres exist," she said.

"You've met one, Cai," said Dunion, leaning back on the table.

Cai perked up. "Really?"

"Yeh," he said leaning back, his back pressed against the edging of the table. "You remember Trahern?" Cai nodded. "He was one."

The sound of Abagail's merry laughter tinkled throughout the room, though most of the sound was lost to screeching of the ailing toddler and howling sounds of Wolf baying in the barn. Rose looked on, a little enviously. The kind of freedom these people had was completely alien to her; and their comments made Rose acutely aware of her lack of companions. It made her think of Tornac, and this riveted her remorse and grief, and Ailis and the very few of her other friends, which she realized, she likely could no longer claim them as friends. Perhaps she could one day, if she survived this quest and was able to make amends, though she had no belief that she would be able to at all.

"Now there is someone I don't miss in the least," Abagail said, standing up.

Rose, glancing at Dunion, saw that was watching her with teasing smile. She quickly looked away and took to studying the ground, trying to pick images out of the scattered straw. In one place she saw a crude outline of the long face of a horse, and in another there was leafless tree.

"Yer have ter thank Lady Marsh fer that," said Dunion.

The conversion changed to other topics, and for a time Rose ignored them and sat bored searching for images on the ground. After a long moment, she felt Thorn proceed deeper in her mind and she perked up in interest, wondering as to what it was that he was doing. The dragon seemingly joined her in her activity, pointing out images not in words but by casting imagery before Rose's inner vision. There were lazing cows and crippled houses and swollen clouds and a sly weasel and a young fowl and once the face a bearded man.

_It looks like a squash, _said Rose squinting at the ground. _How is it that you see a weasel?_

He sent her another vision, this one more firm, of the wily creature in response. Mixed with the image was the feeling of odium which seemed to permanently color Thorn's emotions towards the animal.

She fought back smile with a shake of her head. _I shall never understand your antipathy_, she told him. _It all seems rather childish._

There was another roll of thunder then the toddler's answering cry and the dog's baying howl, and Rose's hair prickled all the way down her back. Thorn called her attention back to their game with a niggled grumble, and with an effort she glanced at a piece of the flooring indiscriminately and relayed the picture of it through their mindlink.

Rose was so completely immersed in their game of search, that when a pale hand tapped her on the shoulder she nearly fell over with fright. Composing herself, she turned and glancing at Abagail she took a bowl of stew, it smelled strongly of fish. They sat and ate, as Cai made his dislike for the stew more than apparent though most of his words were lost to the chaos of noise.

When the food was eaten and supper's mess had been cleared away, they readied themselves for sleep however unlikely slumber was to call on them that night. Outside the farmhouse the wind roared, rattling the shutters over the windows, and the thunder deafened the skies and the dog in the barn continued to howl at the echo of pounding rain and the farm animals screamed in their panic, and very little could else be heard as the baby's cries intensified. After a while, the rain seemed to have thinned slightly and the thundering had lessened though the crying and howling only worsened. By some unspoken agreement the people roused theirselves out of their blankets and sat at the table in exhausted silence.

As the baying howls coming from Wolf, whose growls had been getting louder, suddenly ceased, Rose felt her calm pretense begin to thin and fade, and she retreated into Thorn's mind in a feeble hope of steadying herself. When she felt no tranquility from Thorn, only the turmoil of the storm, she withdrew from his mind. She watched as Dunion shot up from the table, nearly knocking the sizeable mug of mead from Ionia's shaking hands, and darted out the door. Moments after Dunion left the sheltering of the house, the sound of shouting could be heard over the toddler endless wailing. Hearing the noise, Thelma emerged from the isolation of the small sleeping room with the flailing toddler in her arm, looking as if she about to be in tears herself. "What's with all the shouting?" she asked, her voice rising over her child's cry. It was a wonder that the toddler had not cried himself into a slumber.

Abagail looked up and opened her mouth as she meant to say something, but it was Ionia's voice that answered. "Your brother's luck has finally run out," she said cheerfully, her words were slightly slurred from the amounts of alcohol she had consumed. Ionia took another long drink from the mug.

"He said we would safe here," Thelma said, before cooing at the child in her arms. For a moment he become quiet and she visibly relaxed.

"And we have been, dear. Like everything, our safety here can only last so long." She set down the mug and cackled at Thelma's glum face, as if her granddaughter had told a hilarious tale. "Our world is full of sorrow and evil," Ionia said after she had calmed herself. To Rose's surprise, the old woman's eyes filled with tears and she covered her eyes with her hands as she began to bawl.

Abagail stood up and pulled the old woman's hands away from her face. "And full of such beauty and love," she said. "Perk up, Namma, we have no time for this. Come on, now. Oh, there's a smile." She pulled Ionia to her feet and supported the woman, as Cai grabbed the mug full of mead and shoved it under the table. "If the shields are here we should prepare ourselves, yes, Namma?"

Ionia nodded and wiped at her eyes. "Gracious, I don't know what came over me," she said, suddenly sounding like her abstemious self. "Yes, yes, of course. We must ready ourselves. Thank you, Ailis, dear."

Rose waited, taken aback, as an uncomfortable silence filled the room. She felt Thorn's inquiry through their mindlink, and started slightly. She had forgotten they were still in mindtouch, as he had been so silent._ It is a common enough name among the commoners,_ she told him. _Two people possessing the same name means little to naught._

Abagail leaned forward and touched her grandmother's shoulder, and the old woman looked up and blinked, as if she had just awoken from a dream. "It's me, Namma. It's Abagail," she said quietly.

The toddler whimpered.

The old woman's face collapsed into a grimace of pain and she turned her head to one side, studying Abagail. Slowly she nodded. "Oh, so it is," said she turning to consider the stove, humming softly under her breath.

"We an't knowing its them shields," Trent said, breaking the tension.

"We don't know its not," said Thelma harshly. The child in her arm gave out a little feeble cry, and she hushed him with a coo and a smile.

"Wolf an't ever quiet when it storms. She don't like 'em," Cai explained, staring at his grandmother with interest. "So there's something wrong with her if she quiet. And there's all this yelling going on outside. Who's yelling?"

"I don't know," said Abagail. "Shields, I guess, who noticed Dunion in one of villages and followed him here. He's been more careless than he should be lately. I don't know why they would attack in the rain."

Trent's head shot up as Abagail spoke, as if noticing for the first time the racket outside, and he quickly left the house. As the door crashed shut and the toddler began to wail once again, Rose stiffened and bit her tongue. Tasting blood, she swallowed but the metallic taste seemed to be trapped in her mouth. _Thorn? _she called out.

_I am here_, he told her. _We should make it well out of here; those two-leggeds are too occupied to be looking out for a stray girl._

Rose did not know how long she sat there picking at the dirt with the stick, though it could not have been a long time. _I cannot_, she said at last. Beyond the whining of the toddler she could hear the shouting of men, and the air vibrated with a sound like the screech of tortured metal._I'm not fool enough to believe that the King's army, if it is indeed them, will not notice their prey wander away from their hunt. _As Rose spoke, a green lighting split the night, and Thorn sent her a wave of furor that she reeled, her senses stunned. _Are you angry with me or because the circumstances would not allow me to leave at this exact moment as you wish me to? _she retorted, fighting back her own annoyance._ Direct your anger elsewhere, not at me. I'm not here for you assail with your antagonism as you see fit._

A flash of something caught her eye,and Rose looked up. She watched as Abagail took the firepoker from its resting place near the stove, and pressed the tip of it against her palm. it was dull and left behind an ugly brand of soot on her skin. To Rose's surprise, Abagail took the firepoker and stabbed it into the wall. The wall cracked where the firepoker make contact, and the firepoker cut cleanly through it. Abagail pulled the firepoker out with a great amount of effort, and fell onto her bottom when the object gave way, before standing and stabbing at the wall once more.

"Oh! Goodness!" Ionia exclaimed, watching her granddaughter attack the wall. "Abagail, dear, what are you doing to my poor wall?"

"Making us a way out of here." Abagail pulled out the firepoker, leaving behind a small hole. "Don't just stand there! Help me!"

Rose stood up, making her way over and Thelma followed after her. Had she known that the walls were made of something so feeble she could have left days before.

Thelma handed the toddler to Ionia and shuffled through a cabinet where she drew out two large kitchen knives. She handed one to Rose, she took it fingering the weather wooden handle, as Thelma pushed Abagail aside. "Give me that thing," Thelma ordered holding out the knife to Abagail. "You're doing it wrong."

Abagail huffed indigently at her sister, but handed over the firepoker, and took the knife instead. She stabbed the knife into the wall, it did as much damage as the firepoker had which was not much.

For a heartbeat, Rose watched Thelma spear the wall and pull the firepoker out an angle, this way left behind a gaping puncture in the wall, before she did the same with the knife. Where the knife wounded the wall, small blasts of chilled air breezed through. Rose hesitated outside the grouping of girls, looking into the holes of darkness; it seemed astounding to her that anybody would be traveling through the wildness in this tempest so causally. The people or the Empire's soldiers had made an effort to conceal themselves, but now they made themselves well known. In her mind something didn't quite add up; had someone noticed the scuffle in Culdaff after all? Or perhaps, there were people hunting Dunion, and they had found him at last. Whatever reason for it there was something curious about this predicament, and with that on her mind, she walked over to the window and, dropping the knife on the table as she went, she opened the shutters and she peered out of the window.

The rain had lessened, it was no long a driving downpour, and Rose saw cloaked army men, a crest at their each of their breasts reflected in the light spilling from the window. There were five of them. They kept a hound behind them, it sat on its hunches, and beside the large hound was a crumbled form. The form was no longer recognizable, but from its size Rose knew it was once a creature known as Wolf. Dunion and Trent were not anywhere within sight. A dark shape moved towards the house, and as it approached it caught her staring, it- he, held up his hand as if he were to wave and then stopped halfway through the action. Rose shrank back, taken aback, and nearly stumbled over her own feet in her haste as she ran to the door to fasten it shut.

"How many men are out there?" asked Thelma without looking at her.

"I sighted half a dozen of the King's soldiers, though there might be more," said Rose.

"And my brother?" she asked. The silence that followed was more of an answer than any words that could be given were and Thelma nodded examining her aperture critically before deciding that the wall had been weakened enough. The mother sat down and kicked the wall with both of her feet, and both of her feet went through with a crashing sound. When Thelma pulled them out Rose saw that a hole large enough for an adult to creep through bent over had been created. Thelma stood and took her son from Ionia, then guided her grandmother to the hole. "You and Abagail go first," Thelma said. "Run. Don't look back, just keep running. We'll be right behind you."

When Abagail looked as if she were to argue, Thelma shoved her roughly through the hole, jerking the toddler somewhat so that he began to cry, and Ionia bent over and shuffled quickly after her. Thelma then turned away from the hole and called after Cai but the boy did not come.

Thelma called for him again and again he did not come.

There was small, almost unheard, whimper. Rose heard Thelma curse and then the sound came again from underneath the table.

"Cai?" Thelma called. "Where are you, you little whelp?"

At that moment there was a whimper.

Rose sighed and peered under the table, Cai was there, sitting on the ground with his arms wrapped firmly around his legs. She peered at the cowering boy, and then she reached forward and tried to pull the boy out from under the table but he clung desperately to supporting beams. With an impatient huff, Rose gave up and scuttled into the small empty place next to the child, she kneeled next him and tried to pull him out from there but he would not move.

At that moment there a banging noise. Rose started and turning away from the boy, she peered under the bench; three soldiers walked boldly into the house without knocking, dressed conceitedly in a purple tunic and gold colored chainmail, dripping large puddles of water onto the ground from their short cloaks and pooled around their boots. She couldn't see their faces. "Good evening, madam," said the captain, a motif was fashioned to the Empire's insignia ensuring that his position be known.

"What do you want, sir?" Thelma's voice trembled.

"I see. A very good evening to you as well." The captain stepped forward and reached Thelma, out of Rose's line of sight. "We're here in search of something," said the man. "Meybe you've seen it."

There was a rustling like that of paper being unfolded.

Rose sat as if she were paralyzed, her lip wedged firmly between her teeth. A trickle of blood ran down her chin where her tooth pierced into her skin. She heard the iron scrape of swords being pulled from their scabbards, the lapping of dripping rain, a set of tramping of feet that vanished into the next room, and a grunt as someone picked up something heavy. One of the soldiers stepped close to the table, his black leather boots were within her arm's length. She had a hand on Cai's thin shoulder and she could feel his whole body shuddering. He made no sound.

"No," said Thelma, "I have not. May you feel welcome to see yourself out of my home, and have a decent night."

"We cannot leave without it."

"It's not here."

There was crashing shout of thunder and the toddler began to cry once more and the captain shouted something that was lost to the wailing. Rose gulped and then strengthening her will, looked around the flat beaming of the table. She had to see for herself.

The captain lazily extended a hand. Nothing seemed to happen, and then a flash of reddish-brown light pulsed from his hand, and the toddler fell limply into his mother's arms, his body crumbled, his eyes wide and wet with unshed tears, his lips drawn back in a frozen wail. Rose realized with a thrill of dread that the captain was a magician. She had never seen a man bearing the crest of the Crown act with such careless savagery before, and even as disaster loomed over them, the sight of it hit her like a savage blow to the her stomach. She gagged, breaking into a cold a sweat.

The boy next to her whimpered a cry and she silenced him with a stern look. The boy surprised her, as he reached out and pressing himself against her beast. She rocked back on her heels before wrapping her arms around his form. With an effort she swallowed, pushing away her fright.

"Not… him…please… not him," Thelma said, an intolerable grief gathering in her eyes. Her face crumbled, and Rose saw that her shoulders were shaking, and then there was a screech of rage, like that of an injured beast, and she lunged at the captain, hacking savagely the firepoker at his face. The barbed end sliced into the cheek of his face and there was a welling of blood. A blade flashed and Thelma fell to the ground, blood running darkly from her neck and mouth. She convulsed and then did not move.

Rose turned away and mindtouched with Thorn but said nothing to him simply taking in the comfort of his being there. There were more sounds as the men looked through the house in search of whatever it was they were looking for, and this last a very long time before they left.

There was a long silence, and neither of them moved. After a time Cai put his face into her chest and began to wept, curling himself around her. Rose tightened her hold around him and shut her eyes. She held him for what seemed like a very long time. Rose kept making soothing noises and at last he let go of her, his sobbing subsided to some extent and he sat up and moved slightly away from her, rubbing his face on his sleeve. Cai allowed her to bring him out and they both looked around avoiding the sight of the crumbled bodies.

Utensils and belongings were thrown everywhere, and bottles of and grains and pickles had been smashed of the floor, the curtain dividing the sleeping room from the main room was torn off the wall. Inside the sleeping room the mattress had been slashed and the floor was covered with its stuffing of horsehair and straw and the clothing from in the chest had been tossed carelessly to the ground.

Rose regarded the ruins with no emotion at all; neither pity or disgust or fellow feeling, she only felt drained and empty. They surely couldn't stay there that crumbled, deathly house, and storm or not Thorn's desire to leave burned inside of her as well. "We should go," she said.

To her relief Cai nodded and scrambled forward, unbalanced because of his sobbing. He stank of urine, and his face was wet and slimy and streaked with dirt. Rose put her hand on his shoulder and took him out into the night.

She squinted into the darkness which was so complete that she would not be able to see her hand if she put in front of her face had she shut the door behind them. They walked slowly and quietly, peering around in the darkness. To her astonishment, Cai took her hand and clung onto her, and he didn't let go. Their footsteps sounded unnaturally loud and echoed strangely when they crossed a puddle. As their eyes adjusted to the light, they reached the fencing wall that surrounded the home, they stopped.

_How far from us are you,_ said Rose to Thorn.

_Not far. Why bring the small one?_

Rose squeezed her eyes shut. _I don't know. _She shuddered as a stream of rain ran down her neck. _I suppose he has no place else to go, _said she, _and he is frightened and grief-stricken and alone. We cannot just leave him here._

Rose dragged her eyes away from the darkness and was about to step forward when a figure sprang out of the darkness and lunged at Cai. Taken off guard, Cai screamed and was knocked to the ground completely unable to protect himself. His head bounced pitifully on the ground as a shadowed creature pinned him roughly to the dirt. Rose shouted with surprise and leaped toward him, wondering what she should do; she couldn't hit the creature without putting the boy in danger. For a brief moment, she stood completely still in indecision, and there was a sudden glow of light and within moments two men melted out from the shadows, a lantern held high over their heads. "Don't move or the boy dies," one of the men said.

Rose stilled, staring dumbstruck at the men. Why hadn't she have thought to bring the knife or some sort of weapon? She did not ever remember putting the knife down or where it might be. She looked over her shoulder and glanced briefly at the house.

The second soldier sneered. "You come here, peasant," he said. "I am the captain of this region. The orders are that if any persons here come with us."

It seemed for a moment that she could not move, and the captain examined her suspiciously. Rose did not like his face; whereas the soldier had a buff, open expression, if not very intelligent, this one looked like a ruffian and held an air of authority. She also couldn't forget what savagery had taken place inside that home and how he had killed a toddler and his mother.

"Perhaps we can get ter know the lady a little, eh?" said the captain after a time. He nudged the first who looked a bit uncomfortable, and walked up to Rose and grabbed her arm. Rose shied away and the captain let her go and laughed. "She seems the handy type, to be sure. We could have a bit fun together, eh?"

She reacted with blind fury, without thought, gathering up all the strength within her and drew back her right hand and drove it into his throat. As he stumbled back, his hands at his throat choking for breath, she turned and ran, sending out a message of urgently out to Thorn. She barely got three paces away before the soldier seized the back of her dress and hauled her backwards.

Gasping in shock and sudden pain as the hem of her dress cut into her throat, choking her, she fell back and crashed to the ground and as she fell, the man released his grip on the dress. She gagged and rolled onto to her knees, jerking away from him and stumbled into the middle of the yard. The captain gasped and fell back, he was murmuring something. It took Rose a moment to realize that he was praying for protection against the demons of the Dark.

She recovered and dared a look over her shoulder, ten feet behind her was Thorn, his maw opening threateningly. His eyes stabbed like red flames and black shadows carved his face. Rose felt his consciousness tap against her own, and then there was a deep grumbling in his chest, and he roared and it seemed that the darkness itself was screaming. The soldier close by had dropped to both his sword and shield and had fallen to his knees, covering his eyes with his hands in a gesture of despair and horror. The hound cowered and ran, and horses tied nearby reared and screamed, beating the air before or behind them with their hooves. One of them broke free and sprang sideways and reared before bolting away.

There was an awful moment of silence, and then Rose stood and scrambled over to the insensible form of Cai and swept him into her arms. He wasn't as heavy as she feared and she was able to hoist his onto Thorn's back like a corpse, his head down one side and his feet the other. Then, she climbed onto the dragon's back and sat behind the boy, clinging to the spine that jutted out of the base of Thorn's neck. Thorn heaved himself into the air and flew over the path, wobbling this way and that as he fought against the steady current of wind. They passed the King's men, and Rose averted her face so that she could not see them; she knew without looking that they were watching them and the young woman and her toddler that they had murdered lay crudely on the ground of their home, and she had no desire to know anything more.


	39. Chapter 23

_________I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
I've edited this. Its a bit of a filler.  
So you know: t_he Platnak- is a dark, shadowy and very lovely mythical creature who takes misbehaving children and puts them in a sack in the middle of the night, and carries them away to the high mountaintop of Marna, there the Platnak keeps them for a year then boils them and eats them. I've half of a sidestory about it and am too lazy to finish it.  
Enjoy,

* * *

**In the Byre**

Rose sat beside Cai on the side of the straw filled mattress and watched the sun rise over the downs. Gradually the world filled with color, and a chorus of birdsong rose around them, and the horror ebbed away. Still she could not sleep. Her mind was too agitated for it; she still felt dizzy with the successive shocks. She sat in silence, reflecting on what had happened in the past twelve hours; first Thorn finding her, then the meaningless deaths handed down by the Empire, then the ambush. Her thoughts couldn't rest on anything for long, but leaped ahead of her, flashing a kaleidoscope of images into her mind; the young mother lunging at the captain the body of her child falling to the floor, the look of complete terror and grief on Cai's face, the shadowing glow of Thorn…

Despite the warmth the shrouded sun brought she shivered, doubting that the damp would ever leave her. Her fingers were numb and her clothes were sticking uncomfortably to her body but it was her hair that made her miserable; dripping beads water down her back, clinging her neck and face, and continuously veiling her eyes with its tingled heaviness. She never wished more a brush for her hair, but when she searched for one all she could find was a brush for a horse's slick coat.

They were under the sheltering of a half attached roof in old rutted byre. Underneath the ground was slightly, and there was even a little protection from the dripping rain. Thorn was huddled close by, his head rest atop of his paws, his back hunch miserably against the rain and shifting wind.

_What are we to do?_ asked Rose. Her gaze swept, smoldering with irritation, over the bare, lonely hills.

_Do?_ he said. _What do you mean?_

_We have to find out that happened. Those, those people… There has to be something we can do. _Rose bit her lip. _No one deserves death for simply being associated with somebody, and we cannot keep the boy. He has a family._

_We're not going back. I will not heedlessly return to that perilous place._ Thorn pounded his tail against the ground. _We can't afford any more trouble._

_Perhaps not,_ said Rose. _There is no harm in flying over the area and checking. We cannot continue our journey without knowing whether or not those soldiers are going to report us to a higher order. They saw you, Thorn, don't you understand that? As much peril as you believe there is in returning to that house, there is the same amount in continuing back to Teirm._

_All the more reason not to check,_ said Thorn. _The risk is too great._

Rose was silent, for a time, turning over their options. At last she sighed, pulling at a loose grimy thread from one of many holes in the mattress. _So be it,_ she said. _What shall we do with Cai, then? We cannot take him with us nor can we leave him._

With an unhappy grumble Thorn stood up. _I will look, _said he flourishing his wings, _if you stay here, and promise not get into anymore trouble. When I return we leave and find your companions if I do not see his two-leggeds, perchance I do I will return him and then we will leave this place._ With that said Thorn jumped into the air and flew away.

.

Until they had found the byre, their flight had been difficult and miserable. The rain had shot down from the sky like tiny, frozen needles, and the shifting wind had forced Thorn to fly close to the ground but it was the lack of the sheepskin that caused the most trouble. The thin stockings provided a very little protection from the sharp points of scales on Thorn but the dampness made it a challenge to stay on his back, and each turn or shallow dive sent both Rose and Cai this way and that. It was made shoddier by the fact that the boy would not wake, not that Rose could blame him as the blackness of unconscious was far better than reality, and she had the drama of keeping both herself and him securely on Thorn's back. Eventually Thorn flew far enough away from that lone dwelling that he agreed to find a shelter for the remainder of the night, and not soon after his agreement the half standing byre and a small, high roofed house was found.

The inside of the chalet was the grimiest place Rose had ever seen; it lacked even the rough coziness of the previous havens. It smelled of stale air and mold and damp, as if house had been empty for some time. A dish of beans, half-eaten and layered with grey dotted fuzz, lay on a table nearby, and a chair was pushed back as if someone had suddenly stood up. Another chair had fallen over. A mug was broken and split on the floor, the beer dried in a dark stain, and several other cups, half-drunk, had been left where they stood, scattered on the small table in the room. There seemed to be several layers of dust on everything. Rose wandered through the three bedchambers, and all of them looked at if the people had left hurriedly.

Having decided that she did not wish to stay in that abandoned home, she pulled one of the sack-like mattresses out from its framing and dragged it over her shoulder into the byre, and then returned into the house to get two blankets. The blankets were comfortless; smelling of mildew and filled with holes but it was better than nothing, and Rose wrapped both herself and Cai in them before she tried to go to sleep. The moment she laid down, she felt a burning nausea that seeped throughout her body and deathly images passed before her vision, and she sat up and instantly became ill.

Rose did not try to sleep after that, but instead choose to look over the hills thinking over what had happened, that perhaps had she done something different things mightn't not ended the way they had. In her mind she kept thinking over the things that could have been done. Perhaps if she had something different; perhaps she would have been able to change things; perhaps had she heeded the warnings she wouldn't be there seated on a molding mattress with some crippled boy. It was not just the recent events that troubled her, it was everything that had effected in the past year, of all the events that led to her self-enforced isolation and later to this journey, or whatever one might call it, to the Varden.

A familiar dull fear rose up inside her but it was just that dull, like an overly used knife. Rose did not wish to go those rebels. Rider or not, they would not welcome her with open arms, she was sure. They would recognize her, someone would somehow, and then what? Her parents had made many enemies in their lifetime and here she was in the same standing as her dreaded father, with an alliance to the King or not there was sure to be blood shied. That was the blessing that her father bestowed on her; no matter where she might go someone would be hunting her, lurking in the shadows, waiting for the moment she took a misstep and then they would pounce. There was no place that was safe.

She stared balefully into the endless hills of the forsaken farmland, remembering Tornac's words, on how thinking of the thinking of _ifs_ were fruitless. It felt so very long ago that they had sat in that cabin together. Immediately she missed his calm, understandable presence and wished she had not thought to travel to Teirm.

She didn't even know why she had done it, her reasoning was so flawed and not truly the reason she had wished to see the city. Had she been truthful with herself, she would have realized that that she the cause of her discomfit was how it reminded her of her life in Urû'baen, and how that had troubled her. She had left as a fool under a false principle, and felt it all the more now.

Rose shook her head. Her thoughts were not making sense, she was simply too tired to think properly. She couldn't sort through them properly, as it confused her already jumbled feelings. It reminded her when she was a child, lost in the maze of halls and at every corner was the Platnek waiting to catch her, when in fact there was nothing there except for her own imagination.

She laughed to herself, feeling all the more of a fool.

)(.().)(

It was some time later that Rose had her head leaning in her hands, listening to the rhythmic splashing of the rain. She was on the brink of sleep when suddenly it seemed that a darkness grew over the lands and there was raging booming of thunder. Rose started awake, grabbing the axe beside her -which had a broken handle and its blade was chipped- that she had found in the cowshed, and cradled it to her chest.

Thunder sounded again, and the boy awoke with a struggled gasp, and slowly he sat up looking around them. It seemed to take him a moment to remember what had transpired the night before and, Rose watched unsure as to what she should do, as his face gradually paled and crumbled, he covered it with his hands began to weep with a violent cry. She felt suddenly as if she were a trespasser, intruding on the privacy of grief; this was a sorrow too intimate to witness.

She turned away from Cai, and stood up to study the new coming storm and allowing the child a moment of solitude. Rose looked down the valley, the ground swept away before her, a constant, steady decline of peaty hills with pockets of flooded water. After a time the rain fell to the earth like a blankets, and she began to search the sky for Thorn with her eyes and mind. As she had the days before, she felt the emptiness of his presence and she regretted sending him away.

A long time after Cai awoke his sobbed subsided, as did the storm, and he insisted on finding something to eat whether it be wild berries or the remains of a forgotten crop as he was quite hungry, though Rose certain that he only wanted do something to keep his hands and mind busy so not to appear weak. When she agreed, Cai stood up and hobbled outside to the small woodland behind the byre. They found nothing expect for springy, green mint which they picked and returned to the byre with.

"It puts off hunger," he told her happily.

Rose bit her lip and stared at his smiling face in disbelief. "Cai," she said warily.

He shoved a handful of leaves into his mouth and chewed on them. "Whah ish shet?" he said with a full mouth of greens.

"Do you have a place you can go to?" she asked. "Relatives who live nearby?"

Cai nodded and moved the goo of mint into his cheeks. "Yeh," he said. "I gots Dune, and Thelma, and Abagail, and Namma, and Mathon. How far is home from here? Did you walk the whole way?"

She shifted in the ruined doorway of the byre and looked down for a moment, before squaring her shoulders. "You do remember what had happened the night before?"

"It was a trick!" said Cai harshly, spitting the mint onto the ground. His face was strained and pale, his anger ebbing into confusion. "Ah mean trick, too! Take me home, I wanna go home!" For a second his face creased up, as if he was going to cry again, and he put his fists to his eyes like a little boy. Rose wanted to hug him or comfort him somehow as she had done the night before, but was overcome by a self-consciousness and instead turned away. He would to come to terms with had happened on his own.

Three hours after the sun reached the middle of the sky, the darkness of the storm cleared leaving behind a heavy, dripping fog. Over everything was an empty silence, save for the dripping of the rain and wind as it stirred the grass stems. Rose sat with her head resting in her hands, unsure if she awake or asleep, sending out her mind experimentally. She didn't feel Thorn only tiny, fragile glows of life, like many touches of light in the darkness, but she wasn't all too certain if this was something her mind invented out of its exhaustion or not.

.

When he return it without warning, and the only reason she knew he was there was because of a scream that tore through the thick air like a knife. She startled awake and glanced around in confusion, her mind hazy with the state of half sleep. Beside her was Cai, trembling with fear, poking at something with a shaking finger. Rose looked at him then glanced in the direction he was pointing. "The-the Boogey Beast," he said so softly Rose could hardly hear him.

She glanced at Thorn, who stood relaxed at the opening of the byre, and mindtouched with him. _Was there anyone there? _

_Yes,_ he said. _I saw many men with pieces of fire attached to their beast._

_Was there anyone else?_

His tail flickered across the mud. _No. I did as you asked now we leave._

_I thank you for checking. _Rose turned to Cai and said, "He goes by the name Thorn."

"You named the Boogey Beast?" he said frightfully.

She nodded tiredly. "If you don't behave he'll eat you," said Rose standing up.

Thorn sent her a tendril of exasperation. _I will not_, he said. _That two-legged is too boney, there's hardly any meat at all._

Rose pointedly ignored him. "Up you get," she said as if Thorn said nothing. "We have a long way to go."

Cai looked up at her in panic, his eyes widened and his bottom lip trembling, his fists clutched. "No," he said defiantly. "Take me home."

"There is no home for you to return to." Rose blinked her eyes slowly in impatience. "Please, do get up."

"Nothin' happened, it was awl ah trick!" he said loudly. "I wanna go home."

Her anger grew in its own accord and she felt something inside her snap, as if she was being held by a cord and someone cut it. Cai sat silently, his head bent, and Rose saw his cheeks burned with anger. Rose looked at him and then turned away. "Get up," Rose said harshly. "There was no trick. What you saw happen was truth, your eyes did not lie. Now, please, do get up."

Slowly he stood, and Rose saw that his shoulders shook. "It's not fair," he said.

"Life often isn't."

Rose stepped away, to collect herself, and picked up the scraps of rope she had tied to the mattress, in a fashion very much like what she had done with the sheepskins. She pulled at the ropes and slowly dragged them over the Thorn. It wasn't very heavy but she glanced at Cai with pity and sighed. "I need your help, Cai," she said. "Are you willing to help me?"

The boy nodded and assisted her pull the flimsy mattress onto Thorn's back. Whenever Thorn move even the slightest, he flinched and nearly fell over but eventually they got the mattress on Thorn and Rose tightened it. Not long after that, Rose pushed a resistant Cai onto Thorn's back and she fought her way up behind him. She tested herself, and found that it would not take much to unbalance her, before telling Thorn that she was ready to return to Teirm.


	40. Side Story 17

_____________________________________I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.  
So this is and isn't a side story- I don't know what this is...  
Enjoy,_

* * *

_A Duty in Truth and Lies_

They arrived in the homely valley in the late afternoon, just as the high blue of the winter sky was beginning to darken toward a hazy, moonless evening. The sight of the yellow walls in the distance, glimmering under the halo of sunlight that burned huge and still in the clear sky, made Ailis' heart beat painfully in her chest.

When she had left this manor just over thirteen years ago, she had thought that she might never see it again. To be in this place after all their hard journeying was for Ailis the best part of bliss, it held a special place in her heart. It was here that she had first found what it mean to be something more a history of mistakes, rediscovered the meaning of human kindness. And it was here that she began to overcome the worst of her grief for her lost child.

Though it was winter beyond the high peaks of the Spine here the air was warm and stifling, filled with the scents of spring and it early blossoms fell from the trees like snow. Ailis couldn't get to the gate quick enough, and when she did she pulled the weaving vines from the entanglement of the worn, wooden gate and swung it open. The sound of its familiar creaking brought a smile to her face. She felt as if she were in a dream and had no desire to awake to the cruel world she had been living in the past months, and turned around to glance at Rose.

The young woman stood, halfway off her horse, glancing at the surrounding blossoming trees and valley of untamed flower with a look of unhidden, childlike wonder but then she shook herself and a mask-like blankness covered her emotions. Ailis sighed, she doubted Rose would ever willing show her thoughts, not after the years of told that she should not.

Ailis knew all too well of the Daughters of the Crown who wore stiff gowns and forced smiles, policing theirselves so stringently, whittling each other down with cutting remarks or holding back from greatness with harnesses woven of fears and shame and longing. Being told that they are not worthy of the privilege of choice, they drown their hunger for freedom with weak tea, trying hard to make themselves fit into a narrow world as they are desperately afraid their blinder might slip and show then what they've to see, chosen to think would no longer be there. She knew because once she had tried so hard to fit into that narrow world to be that part of it as she should, but then she had grander ideas. Fantasies, really, silly little things, that lead her to heartbreak.

Rose was there in that place, where Ailis had once been years ago, where her blinders were failing and her world was toppling, all that she had been told was being called into question. Her doubt was written clear as day on her face and it had been for years, though no one had seen it. That place scared Ailis as it surely scared Rose who was still likely clinging desperately to those blinders, a fight she is losing. The young lady's battle showed in many ways, her hesitation to say what was on her mind in biting her lip or ringing her hands before a sharp comment, the stiffness in her shoulders when she was asked a question, the anger she tries hides behind closed eyes, an outburst of violence toward the nearest tree or loose stone. When Ailis had meet her, though it had taken her months to see it, Rose had been at the time, and she still was, when one misstep could lead to disaster and her life had been on the line, her mind wavering on what was wrong and what was right, and with the right influence here and a little guidance over there, she could become anything. Ailis had the feeling that the King Galbatorix had known what was happening for a time and was kneading it, as the dwarves do to clay, to shape and fit into his own wants.

Like a cold bucket of water it came over her and the dream faded, she awoke looking again at the world as it was. Ailis hadn't the time for high spirits and merry mischief, not so long as she had the dragon egg with her in a place so far from the safety of the Varden. She could retreat to the haven of the elves, she knew, but they would not welcome her, and with Rose and Thorn, well, she didn't want a single elf near them. It would be too much of an influence for them, and for as long she could Ailis was determined to protect that girl. She had to. It was no longer a choice it had never been a choice, simply something that she had to do.

A silky petal brushed against her cheek and she brushed it away, looking again towards the haven, as it was that if only for a few days. She passed through the gate and continued forward, it would such a relief to relax and enjoy well prepared meals and to sleep in a bed surrounded by cushions and blankets and not to waken to dripping branching and cold fingers and toes. Suddenly she couldn't reach the doors fast enough and she hastened her step to a slow jog.

When she got the atrium, Ailis nearly tripped as she pulled the bell lever and fell onto the bench. Every part of her body ached and her head was pounding with relief. They had made it this far, and they were all safe.

The atrium was a peaceful place filled with the bubbling music of a fountain and the smell of spring's foliage. Tornac and Rose stood under arch, she looking around with mild interest and he with an eerie tiredness, his face was still pale and withdrawn from his illness.

Ailis waved them over. "Sit down," she told them. "Someone will come in a moment."

Tornac moved first. "I thought you said they were farmers," said he sitting down beside her.

She saw Rose perk up a bit and cast about a look of uncertainty, likely thinking the same as he was. "Padern and his wife are. I thought the same thing as you when I first came here." That was a lie, when she first came here she knew what she was coming into, she had been told that they were prosperous from many generations of good crops and rich noble blood, and she had detested them for it. At this moment though Rose couldn't know that, she would distrust these people if she knew the truth. She would distrust Ailis. "I've learned in time that their fortune is as old as their blood and as deep as their compassion," she said this in truth. Padern and Voirrey were very kindhearted and vigorous people, and perhaps that was why they had cared for her as they had, and why she came to respect them. They had taught her that kindness does not equate to weakness, and that was a lesson she held onto dearly as if it were her own breath.

The sound of a door opening made her look up. Voirrey stood there in the doorway half frozen in astonishment and the she met Ailis' eyes and came forward, her arms held out as if to embrace her. Ailis looked away swiftly, because right now kindness would make her weep and did not wish to weep here and so instead she stood, extending her hand in greeting. "Voirrey," she said. "Greetings."

"Ailis?" The name came stiffly from her as her face dropped with disappointment. "Is that you?"

"The same," she said. Ailis studied Voirrey for a short moment, feeling suddenly giddy as if she were young girl about to get a forbidden treat. "How good it is to see you!" _Please don't ask any questions, my friend,_ she thought to say,_ not now, not here, not in front of her._

"And good to see you, my friend. I've missed you," said Voirrey remaining formal. A staid smile flickered across her lips, surely catching onto Ailis' warning looks. "But it has been too long since your path has led this way."

Ailis narrowed her eyes just slightly at her hoping that her friend would say no more about where she has and has not been. "Far too long," she agreed.

"What has brought you to this side of the world?" There it was the question Ailis hoped Voirrey would not ask, not until they were alone, at least. She gave her head a slight shake and Voirrey glance behind her at Tornac and Rose and behind them at the horses. Realization dawned on her face. "But that can wait," she said. "Please let us get out of this heat before we talk. Come, we must attend to the beasts first." She led walked past Ailis with a curious glance, and continued to the horses allowing them to untie them from the posting and lead them into the sables.

The sables were a low set of stone buildings built on from every few generations as the farm grew and more animals were in needed to keep the farm stable. The first thing Ailis noticed was the calming smell of horses and all that came with it; the hay, slight moldy from the chilled nights, and the stinking musky scent of the horses themselves.

They mutely unburdened the steeds and brushed away the sweat sticking in their coat before stabling them and returning to the atrium and moments later into the house itself. The halls were still cool from the remaining chill of winter and the travelers relished in its coolness as they slipped off their cloaks from the morning rain and hung them, moving stiffly from layers of sticking sweat. The stone thick walls inside the house the plain, with simple golden embellishments, and all the more elegant for its simplicity. A lovely silver lamp hung down from the ceiling infusing a soft golden light over everything it touched.

"Well!" Voirrey exclaimed loudly, pulling Ailis out of her surveying. The woman was studying Rose and Tornac with interest, wondering no doubt as to why they were here and who they were. "Who are these two?"

Ailis waved her hand to each of them in turn. "They're Tornac and Rose," she said watching Voirrey's reaction as she studied them even more closely. Suddenly Voirrey eyes seemed to be able to pierce through ice as her gaze fell onto Rose and she looked taken aback. Ailis watched as Rose bowed her head politely and Voirrey after a moment hesitation did the same. Luckily Voirrey said nothing and Ailis relax into her heels, she hadn't known how nervous she was. "Tornac, Rose, this is Voirrey, an old and dear friend of mine."

Voirrey glanced at Ailis questioningly, she knew what the woman wished to ask and Ailis nodded her head. Her hazel eyes widened, and she flinched just ever so slightly. "You and your friends are always welcome here. My husband will no doubt wish for you to join us for dinner, he is occupied at the moment," she said in a way that meant something almost completely different. "In the meantime I will arrange rooms, and I expect you want to refresh yourselves and rest." That was a warning, not a suggestion. Ailis was going to have hell to pay for bringing Rose here without so much of a warning, the shock of her being here still made Ailis tremble.

As Voirrey shepherded them down the hallway Ailis matched her pace to the woman's long strides, it was unfair how tall Voirrey was compared to Ailis. She felt a stab of jealousy. "How have you been?"

Voirrey glanced down at her and smiled a true smile. "I've been well enough. Many things have changed since you've been here," she said, with a glance behind her. "And I can see that many things have changed for you as well. There is an interesting story to be told for sure but that can wait for another time." She paused at the staircase, there was pounding _thumps_ as a set of children's feet fled up them, she saw a flash of red curls and heard a girlish giggle. Ailis shot her an ironic look and suddenly Voirrey became brisk. "I think the both of us need something to drink. Or at least I do. I'm pretty sure we can find some wine in this house somewhere…"

She continued up the stairway and after rousing a maid from her dusting to prepare three chambers for them and show the chambers and washroom, to Rose and Tornac who both were togging behind tiredly, Voirrey went into the music room. There a table by the window where a full carafe filled with golden liquid stood next to some glasses, and she poured the wine into two glasses. She handed a glass to Ailis, lifted hers in salute, and took a long draft.

"It has been a hard last few years, Ailis," she said. "And we've have had our discoveries and losses. But I doubt that times have been as hard as yours. You are welcome as you know to remain here if you wish to."

"I know I could," said Ailis, "and you know I wish to and that I cannot. Tell me about what has happened here."

Voirrey sighed, and looked down at her wine, swirling it thoughtfully in her glass. "We lost Neacal," she said, naming her first born child.

Ailis drew in her breath, remembering the witty boy. "How?"

"There had been an illness that swept throughout this region, it began well over six years ago and ended not long ago, perhaps it continues still though I've heard no word of it. Many children and men and women had passed from this due it, young adults mainly, it targets those in their prime who are readily prepared to bring in the next generation. Neacal went south to learn sell our trades, with many of our men when they came in contact with a woman with the disease and she passed it to him. It spread through his veins like a quick poison and he did not return." There was a catch in Voirrey's voice and she sighed. "We miss him sorely. I am beginning to understand some of your pain but," she paused and looked at Ailis sideways, "I am also beginning to think that not all is as it seems."

Ailis stared down at the wine and knitted her lips together with distaste, she lifted the glass to her lips and took a long drink. "So it seems."

"How is it so?" she asked.

"I'd rather not talk about this," she said looking meaningfully at the woman.

Finally the woman nodded. "You're playing a dangerous game, don't you think?"

"Voirrey, please," she said. She was begging now but she did not care. "I cannot talk about this."

"I'm only trying to look out for you."

"I know," said Ailis. She hunted for something to say that might change the direction of the conversation. "Who is the girl?" she said at last.

"Breaca," Voirrey said smiling around the name with a slow shake of her head. "She can be quite a sprightly child. Hasn't been still since the moment she came here."

"How did she come here?"

Voirrey shook her head. "You cannot be willing to talk about one child and be so unwilling to talk about the other. Go and rest, we can talk more over dinner. Caitriona arranged it, so its sure to be good," she said before shooing Ailis away with a humored laugh.

.

Dinner was a tasty as Voirrey promised: roasted wild duck with almond oil and butter and stuffed with fresh herbs and nuts, salty wedges of sharp cheeses, bowls of carrots flavored with honey and rosemary, and thick mussels and flavorful fish, or in the least that was what Ailis had noticed of it. The meal was followed by a creamy apricot latticed pie that made Ailis' mouth water, and she savored every bite.

Padern had come from a large family and many of his relatives lived in the house with him and his family, helping with the corps and enjoying its wealth in turn, and often joined him for dinner as they did that night. It was by an unspoken consent, they spoke about distance or pleasant things- memories of Padern's or his brother's youth or funny stories Voirrey remembered from her childhood in a manor nearby, or arguments of about merits of different plants- until they had finished eating. At last the large group broke apart to do as they pleased, and Ailis watched as Rose retreated to the library and Tornac retired to bed to return to the sleep he had been awoken up from.

Tornac had put much effort to appear recovered from his passing illness, to hide it from her and Rose as their continuing traveling as it hadn't allowed him the chance to properly heal, going so far as to join them in the practice of swordcraft. He had done a decent job and Ailis had been fooled until they had gone swimming the other night when he said the water was very cold when in fact it merely cooling and then when her hand brushed against his blistering hot skin. Ailis watched him leave worriedly, before she returned to her own chambers to rest for a time.

She spent very little time in her chamber before throwing on her robe and padding down to the corridor to the bathroom. She was addicted to baths and every chance she got she ensured that she that she took one. A window was open letting in the cooling night air and with it a light breeze. She filled up the tiled bathing tub and allowed herself to soak, losing herself to the growing warmth but when a breeze caught the stray pieces of her hair, her mind perked and her thoughts began to wander, she dipped her head under the water's surface and held her breath for as long as she could, before getting out of the water.

Then she returned to her chambers and shuffled quietly through her bags until she drew out the remaining dragon egg. Its green glow caught in the light and shimmered a light silver in the glowing light. She ran her fingers over its smooth, veiny surface and returned it to its casing, double bagging it and then hiding the bag under the gap beneath her mattress and the floor. She muttered a spell to insure its protection. There would be no more chances, no more risks, no more hatchlings, she had decided this after Thorn had hatched for Rose.

If there was a matter that bothered Ailis endlessly, it was that; Rose becoming a Dragon Rider, something the girl clearly did not wish for. Ailis had been afraid when she found out that Thorn had hatched for Rose, that she become more like her father than she unknowingly was, but this was not the case. The two of them together was completely unlike what she had thought would happen. A slow trust had built up from a set of runes and it now towered high, though neither dragon or Rider acknowledged it. There was an eerie calmness about Rose whenever the dragon was near, as if some of her fears had left her and she was beginning to be able to pick up the pieces left behind, to collect herself. Ailis found it both enlightening and haunting, and she was never able to watch the two of them for long before she had to turn away.

Ailis had been keeping close tabs on Rose for well over three years ,as soon as she had heard of Rose, she looked into the girl's existence. And when it had come time for Ailis to go to Urû'baen, it was no rare chance that she was stated under caring for Rose. She had worked quite hard to ensure her position there, almost cruel deeds that the woman would never admit to the girl for fear she might grow to hate her. It was a shock on both how cautiously and how quickly Rose took to Ailis. She had been starved from maternal affection, Ailis came to know, and had more fears than what was a right for a girl of her age and standing should have, but it was the fear of become something like her parents that troubled Ailis the most.

Rose hardly knew the people that were called her parents, what they were like, what they had truly looked like without the brush strokes. The girl had a portrait of her father and mother hidden in the depths of her wardrobe in Urû'baen, Ailis had seen it and shoved it aside with an effort not to rip it to shreds, perhaps it the only way Rose knew what her parents had looked like and that's why she keep it. She had been far too young to remember the man and woman properly, though she had undoubtedly heard tales. The tales of a ruthless, betraying, hateful past of deeds, but none of the shame or guilt or regret, those tales were well hidden but findable if one looked for them. But she did not look or even seem to care and in this way Rose had put up her own blinders, these were stronger that one forced onto her, and would refuse to hear of the truths because in their life and their death her parents had hurt her, and continued to hurt her. How they not have? Just by their memory she had been chased down countless times in a place she should have been able to have called home, twice lay one her deathbed, been tortured by the threat after threat of death, lost her chance to enjoy her season as every young girl should, and then plagued under the belief of losing her freedom to the King, all because of them.

And Ailis had been a part of all of it, the guilt weighed down on her endless. Had she of known what might have come perhaps she would have been able to change something. But she did not and now she had to do what she could to put things back to their rights.

She shook her head, clearing her thoughts, then picked up a golden, slightly wrinkled pear out the bowl on the table and stepped outside her room and down the halls to the gardens outside. The shadows were now almost complete and the stars sparkled brightly above. Ailis walked barefoot out onto the cool grass and sat in the shade of a trellis overgrown with pale-yellow roses. She ate the pear slowly, letting its sweet juice fill her mouth, her head empty of thought, utterly content. Somewhere an unseen bird burbled in the bushes, but it was otherwise completely quiet.

.

It was in the late hours of night when Ailis returned inside the house, she was tired but could not find it in herself to sleep not just yet. By some undecided whim, she was standing outside Rose's door the light spilled underneath the doorway, golden on the checkered flooring. Her hand acted on its own accord as she opened the door and peaked inside, hoping that the girl was asleep and had simply left her lamp on. It was not so.

She was seated on the window seat staring unseeingly out the window, her head tilted just slightly to the side, deep in thought. Ailis had seen it many times while in Urû'baen acting as a maid and seeing it now concerned her. Scratching her leg with her bare foot, Ailis thought to close the door but when she did this, Rose looked at her startled. She stepped on her toes and opened the door. "Rose!" she said walking inside the room, "You're awake. Have you been spending your time well?"

Rose nodded, silently saying that she had in fact had a decent evening. Ailis believed that she had, as her viol was resting beside her and she undoubtedly finished playing some time ago. The woman had never heard Rose play and she doubted she ever would, it seemed something that the young lady considered to be a private thing, sacred for only her ears or perhaps those she trusted the most. Rose wouldn't ever trust Ailis enough to play for her, no doubt. Ailis bit her tongue sadly and shook herself, it hardly mattered. Rose had trusted her enough to leave Urû'baen with her unknowing why or where they would go, that should be enough for Ailis. But it wasn't.

"Is all well?"

Ailis only barely heard the words and she shook herself out of her self-pity. "Hmm?" What had she asked? If all was well? No, not all was well. "Oh, yes, of course," she said. Another lie, how many more lies would she have tell her? "Do you mind me brushing your hair? It has been over long since your hair has had a decent combing, I think." That was hardly the case, brushing hair, rather horse or human, had always been a way that Ailis had calmed herself. She was being purely selfish in asking to do so but her hands were twitching and she needed something to calm her unraveled nerves.

Rose bit her lip. It was a nasty habit of hers and Ailis hated having to look at the uncertainty on her face. Finally, she nodded and Ailis shoved her into a chair with a little more force than she should have. Slowly Ailis began to untangle the braiding in Rose's hair, it was slightly messy as the girl had done it herself and her hands were inexperienced but its darkness hid the loops and places she had missed.

As Ailis worked Rose sunk back onto her, making it near impossible to much of anything. More than once she had pushed the girl forward thinking that perhaps she had fallen asleep but she had not, she would mutter an apology almost unconsciously and straighten herself into a stiff uncomfortable position, her shoulders too firm and her back unbending. After a time of brushing her hair and all of the many tangles were out, her hair fell down her back still damp from her earlier bath, Ailis allowed her out the chair. She was tired at this point and she thought that at last she would be able to fall asleep.

After Rose had turned to glance in the mirror, Ailis glanced around the room. A flash of light caught her eye and she walked up to the window, touching the strings to the viol so that they rung out a pleasing sound, and looked at the suspended bird. She stared blankly into the piebald bird shaped glass. The glass bird had been her one possession, the only thing she had, of her mother. It was small, fitting into the palm of her hand like an egg would, and a lovely ornament with a bronze loop with a chain fixed to it. One of her earliest memories was of her mother unwrapping the glass from a thick scrap of cloth, and holding it into the sunlight, as she and her brother had watched in merriment as rainbows of light flooded into the room. She touched it lightly and it swung towards the window. "I didn't think that Voirrey had kept this silly thing," she said. It was a not silly thing, it was dear to her heart but she had been silly to allow Voirrey to keep it. Perhaps she would ask for it back one day when life was not as peculiar, though Ailis doubted it ever would not be.

"Its not a glass I recognize," said Rose. It was her way of inquiring after it, as she had been tough that questions were seen as unbecoming, not that this stopped Rose from asking if she thought it be important.

Ailis looked away from the bird and studied Rose's face. The blank mask was there but her eyes shone with a surprising emotion as if she just broken out a deep, important thought. "I would think not." She had never seen that type of glass expect for that bird. A true treasure it was. Ailis smiled. "It is a piece I know very little about other that it was a gift to mother from my father. He went hungry for almost a year but he did not regret buying it, I think." Because it was beauty of the thing that made her mother notice his advances at last, before that her mother had been blind to his favor towards her. That had been her father favorite story about his wife and he had told it almost every night before she died, after that he was different, controlling where he had once been kind. "It was one of the reasons she married him."

Rose gave her a crucial look and her mask was replaced with a look of shy mischief. "Your mother married someone because they gave her a glass bird?" She was being far too literal.

Ailis couldn't hide her smile. "I suppose I ought to rephrase that," she said. "My mother fancied him because he showed such kindness and later loved him, and because of that love she married him." She looked over at Rose and covered a yawn with her hand. It was late, she was tired and now that her mind was calm she wanted to go to sleep. "And now, I suppose it is time we go to bed, yes?"

Her nod came automatically like a dog trained to sit on command. "Have a good night," said Rose.

Ailis glanced over at her sadly and then shook herself. Eventually she would have to tell her the truth, but not now when their friendship was so fresh. "And you too!" she said with more cheer than she felt, and then she left for bed.

* * *

_Another character guide  
_**Padern** (meaning father)- The husband of Voirrey, son of Caitriona her husband. Father of Neacal, Jory and Daveth. Fosterfather to Breaca. Once met Selena or so he claims.  
**Voirrey** (version of Mary)- Wife of Padern. Mother of Neacal, Jory and Daveth, and foster mother of Breaca. A friend of Ailis'.  
**_Neacal- _**Viorrey's and Padern's deceased son.  
**Jory** (version of George)- Son of Padern of Voirrey. Tormenter of his foster sister, Breaca.  
**Daveth** (version of David)- Son of Padern and Voirrey. Likes to fish.  
**Caitriona** (version of Catherine) – Padern's and Bearnard's mother. Her husband is died. Grandmother of Neacal, Jory and Daveth, and to Breaca.  
**Bearnard**- Paderns' brother. Husband to Rohosia, and father of Gwilym. Known as 'Uncle Bean.'  
**Rohosia- **Bearnard's wife.  
**Gwilym**- Bearnard's and Rohosia's son. Is Rose's age.  
_Ten more unnamed People.  
_**Breaca **(meaning freckled)**- **the voluble young daughter of Nola and unnamed man, she was adopted by Padern and Voirrey.  
**Nola**- Breaca's birth mother. She gave Breaca up the family so that she could have a better life. No one knows what happened to her.


	41. Chapter 24

___________I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
Enjoy,_

* * *

**Talk of Shadows**

Three hours after they left the byre when the sun became but a fading halo casting a dim orange light over the grayness of the sky, Rose leaned forward tightening her grip around the small frame of Cai. Her hands quavered and she couldn't get a decent holding. The boy was leaning against her chest in a fast sleep, his snores were lost to the cry of wind and the heavy rhythmic beating of wings pounding air. Had it not been for the smack of cold wind in her face that kept her well awake and her hair streamed behind her as they rode at speed, she would gladly join the boy in his slumbering.

Rose regretted using the mattress, as replacement for the sheepskins she had left in the valley near Culdaff, as soon as Thorn leveled out in the heights of the sky. The mattress as they shifted and gathered beneath her, unbalancing her and making the flight unpleasant She had tried to bargain with Thorn to fly lower or to land, but the dragon stood firm in his covet to return to Teirm unseen and without stopping. The heavens were a colorless stupor like a grey ocean rolling with dark waves and nothing could be seen past the span of her hands and the numbing winds shrieked around them, deranging Thorn and threatening to throw them from his back. Not once was a sky bird seen or heard.

The next hours were equally cheerless, although the wind began to fade and the clouds no longer rolled, but at last some sunshine warmed them. The veiling sun crept to the edge of the west and peaked out from behind the clouds. Below, they saw only the faint glimmer of the landscape, pushing broad and shapeless through the undulating emptiness. Rose began to feel that she was not moving at all, but rather she sat on Thorn still as a carven statue, and the mists whirled past her in a gust of wind.

They didn't speak, she and Thorn, both still felt the darkness of their disagreement and separation. Thorn was now pushing himself faster and Rose shivered: the cold was beginning to bit, and huddled Cai closer to her. The cold made her feel strangely fragile, as if she were made of glass. It rained again, a heavier shower, and then the clouds vanished from the sky completely and the moon emerged from hiding so that the land below shone silver below them, a stretching endlessly into the distance.

Three hours after the moon rose into the sky, Rose saw Teirm rising tall and hoary out of the darkness and below wound the Toark River lazily through the farmlands, glittering the moonlight. She looked excitedly to the west, thinking of the coming hours of sleep, at the inky glimmer of the ocean. Thorn pushed himself harder still and glided towards the sea cliffs. Not long after, he landed dived into the cave and lay down as Rose inelegantly tumbled from his back. She searched blindly in the darkness for her sword and upon finding it, she cut the ropes tied to the mattress and slide both that and a roused Cai from Thorn's back. Then at last, Rose carelessly discarded her sword and lay down between Thorn and Cai where she fell asleep almost instantly.

.

When the sun came it ascended recently, casting a warm golden light over all that it touched. As Rose awoke it was now already midmorning, the air was thick and pressed down on her heavily. It took a moment but the solidity of sleep left her and she sat up, looking around the shadowy cave. Cai was sitting at the edge of the cavern overlooking the sea, beside him was her sword, the blade shone in the overcast light. She glanced around wildly for its scabbard, upon seeing it she scrambled forward and swept it from the ground where she had carelessly thrown it the night before.

The child looked up as she walked towards him, he had dark half circles under his eyes and he looked ready to drop. She wondered if he had slept at all or if he had been forging it. "Yer ah girl," he said. "Why do you got ah sword?"

Rose sat beside him and took the hilt of it, lifting it from the ground. For a long moment she stared at the light reflecting off the blade. Somehow having the sword in her hands made her feel more grounded, safer almost as if she would be able handle what was to occur in the coming hours."Do you know the reason why your brother brought me to your house?"

His lip wobbled. "Ter repent," said he, playing with his fingers.

"That's not the reason why." She stood up and returned her blade into its casing.

"Then why?" said Cai, he too stood but in anger and glared at her through a tangle of coiling hair.

Rose moved and took out some food, throwing the rotten meat and decayed fruit over the cliff into the sea below, and the water bottle. "Thorn is not the Boogey Beast," she said, sitting on the mattress, her legs stretched out before her. A scattering of molding straw was spread across the ground from an enlarged hole in the shredded mattress as Thorn's scales had done a fine job wearing its cotton martial down to tatters.

She ate the stale bread hungrily, watching as Cai took in this information, looking between her and the large dragon behind her. Thorn was well awake though he remained silent and still, watching over the humans as they interacted. Rose could feel his mild interest through their mindlink.

Slowly a look of understanding dawned onto his face, and he looked at her with wide, dark eyes. "Those an't real," he said darkly. "Are you playing me some trick?"

She shrugged and ate the last bit of her hardened piece of bread. "No one playing tricks here," she said, buckling her belt around her waist. "I have food in that bag if you want any of it. There's not much, mind you."

"I an't hungry." He cast her a look of dislike.

"If you're not hungry then do not eat," she said glancing at Thorn. _Shall we?_

Cai looked at her as if she had just spoken a different language which he understood nothing of. "Yeh an't gonna make me?" he said.

She looked at his gaped mouthed expression and shook her head. "I must leave for a time," she said. "There's someone who I should talk to."

"Yer just gonna leave me here?"  
"I am," she said with a dismissive shrug.

He looked over the endlessness of the ocean far below. "I an't wantin' ter stay here." His words were soft and Rose could hardly hear them. He looked at her meekly and his lip wobbled again.

With a look of indifference, she put her hand onto Thorn's scales. They were cool and smooth to the touch, like glass was though they held none of its fragileness. "I certainly cannot take you with me," she said, gasping as an edge of from a scale sliced into her finger. She looked down at it as a welt of blood bubbled from her skin.

_Is it wise to leave him here alone?_ Thorn asked.

Rose climbed onto his back, and balanced herself there for a moment. _Where else is he going to go? We cannot risk him running loose in the city telling all he sees about you. The less word out there is out there about us, the better._

"That an't fair!" Cai exclaimed.

"There's less risk in you remaining here," said Rose. "Think about those men, they might be looking for you."

Cai flinched and fell back onto his bottom. "They could be lookin' fer you, too," he said, shuddering. "You gots the Boogey Beast."

Nodding, Rose urged Thorn to go forth and after a moment's hesitation he moved towards the opening of the cave. _I'm enough to protect you,_ said Thorn jumping off the ledge and flaring out his wings.

_I hope so,_ she said fervently. _For both our sakes._

_._

After they left the cave, Thorn flew as close as he dared to Teirm and allowed Rose to climb down before going off on business of his own, likely to stalk her from above, and she made her way to city, bending her steps to the inn Ailis said she was staying at. Thorn was quite unhappy he did not wish for her to return to Teirm, he had turned her augments from the before against her and it had taken Rose quite some time to convince that all would be well and that she had to speak with Ailis but the dragon would not relent. _You will have to go perilously near those army two-leggeds to go into the city, _he had said. _They're gathering down there for what reason is beyond me. Its dangerous, I do not like it. We should return to the cave._

_The more time we spend in the skies the more perilous our path becomes, _Rose argued. _Let me down, Thorn._ The dragon only flew higher and Rose kicked at his bulk with her foot. It hurt her more than it hurt him. _Did you not just say that you were enough to protect me? What are a bunch of lowly soldiers carrying sticks, compared to a big strong dragon like you? _She hit at his vanity, his weak point, and at last he landed.

She remembered the way through the maze of streets with little difficulty, ignoring the looks she received from the people she passed, and halted outside the Croaking Toad inn, suddenly feeling foolish. What if Ailis wasn't there? Rose had been gone for days, and it wasn't as if Ailis couldn't have left.

She opened the door hesitantly and climbed up the stairway to the room Ailis had been staying at. When she knocked, no one answered and she slowly tried the door. It was locked. She peered into the keyhole, and saw a familiar leather bag on the bed. Ailis was still here, somewhere in Teirm. She hadn't left, yet. Rose gasped and sat down, leaning against the door. She had been so sure that Ailis would have left by now, given up on waiting for her and returned to the home of Padern and Voirrey but she had not. Setting her sword on her lap, Rose waited. There was little else she could do.

.

She didn't know how long she sat there waiting but it seemed to be an endless stretch of time before she saw Ailis walking down the hallway, the woman's head bent studying the floor before her. Ailis looked up and upon seeing Rose for a moment she stood absolutely still, her bottom lip trembled as if she was holding back tears. Then something flashed in her eyes, and almost quicker than Rose could follow, she had come up to her and grabbed her arms. Rose was too surprised to move, and with a strange force, the woman picked her up and pushed her into the room, half throwing her into the room. Rose stumbled to the floor and her sword slid out of its scabbard and slid across the room, she gasped as it hit the wall with a pitiful _twack!_

Recovering her balance Rose grabbed her sword from the ground and backed against the wall, looking at Ailis with mingled horror and astonishment. Ailis looked very angry indeed, and Rose wondered if might be wiser to risk the jump from the window and leave the city altogether. But before she could decide, Ailis was upon her, easily pulling her sword from her grip and dropping it behind her, she kicking it away. Her eyes were hard.

Rose stood trembling with rage, now that the shock had died away she was quite angry, in front of Ailis. The woman looked crazed, her eyes glittered dangerously, and her lips trembled at the edges. Rose hadn't seen that expression since they had passed through the Spine and were attacked.

"Do you have half a mind?" she said, her face darkening as she spoke. "Do you have the faintest idea how worried I've been? Being trapped here, unable to leave and search for you lest you return? Five days! You've been gone five days, Rose, without word or bird message. I ought to wring your neck for what you've done!" Ailis shot her a look of black anger, and wiped at her eyes with the palms of hands. "I spent half my life traveling and never once have I met someone so willingly runs away from the arms of saf-safety. Haven't you the slightest idea how hard it is for those who are trying to keep you from harm's way, when you're running from them?"

She stopped listening as soon as she realized that Ailis was beyond reason. Rose watched her as her tantrum continued with her arms crossed, and when she saw no end in sight, she stamped purposely on the woman's foot. It was hard enough where Ailis finally fell silent just long enough for Rose to speak. "No more," she said fervently.

"I beg your pardon?" said Ailis, her eyes snapping.

Rose leaned back against the wall. "I said 'no more,'" she said. "Ailis, you need to calm yourself. Don't speak to me again until you have because I won't listen."

Ailis' eyes turned black with anger. She opened her mouth to say something more but Rose raised an eyebrow at her and covered her ears with her hands to state her point. The woman drew in a shaky breath and turned away to sit on the bed. She sat there for a time and a long silence fell over them.

"I'm very angry with you," Ailis said sharply though she was notably calmer than before. "It was a foolhardy thing to do, disappearing like that. I know that I was the one who spent you to Culdaff but I had expected you to return without a delay. What had happened?"

Rose pulled her hands away from her eyes and looked down at her hands. Noticing that they were shaking, she hid them in the folds of her dress. "I'd rather not say," she said.

Ailis stood and walked over to Rose, cupping her hands around her face forcing her met the woman's eyes. She looked not quite so cross as she had been, a small ghost of a smile played at her lips, or perhaps not. "I am deeply sorry for my actions and words." Ailis' voice was gentle but within it was a strength like steel. "Anger makes a fool out the best of us, and such anger is often borne out of love." Ailis touched her thumb to a cut on Rose's cheek, and she struggled not to flinch. "Please tell me what happened."

Rose was silent for a time, and then after a long struggle with herself she slowly told Ailis all that had happened. As she talk about the deaths of the mother and toddler, a strange sorrow welled up inside her and she found that she could say no more for a long moment. Ailis turned her back to her, listening attentively in silence.

"The captain could have healed the toddler as easily as he killed him. It was maddening to see such a death and being unable to help. I thought the Empire soldiers were tasked with protecting the public but it seems to be everywhere that this is not the case," Rose said, and then to her surprise found herself crumbling to tears. She turned away, but Ailis had already moved close to her and she took her hand.

"Rose, our world is full of evil shadows," she said. "But there is no shadow without light to cast it. You must remember that." She looked earnestly into Rose's face, but Rose couldn't meet her eyes. She turned away, trusting away her hand.

"I am sorry," she said. "I should not have lost control of myself."

Ailis stood silently, her face shadowed, but it wasn't long before she seated herself on the bed. Rose lifted her eyes, still burning with tears, to her face, but the woman did not meet her gaze. Her heart was full of an anger and pain she couldn't describe even to herself, but she didn't want Ailis' compassion. She preferred the woman's earlier anger, the compassion only made things worse; it raised a fear in her, over which she had no control.

"Not as sorry as I am," said Ailis at last. "Would you like to find a something to eat? I'm ravenous at the moment." Rose nodded, she didn't really feel like eating, and after picking up her sword she followed Ailis to the corridor.

"Something" turned out to freshly made meat pasties, and rye bread, and white cheese, and fruit from the tavern connected to the inn. Ailis bought extra for Rose to bring to Cai. They took their bounty to a small, green hill at the edges of the city sat down, facing the ocean.

"I think it would best if you returned to Tornac," said Ailis after they finished eating. "We cannot take the boy with us, and with him having seen your friend, I believe the best place for him is with Voirrey and Padern. It is better than sending him to an orphanage, that's for sure." She turned over a throw knife with her hands. Rose hadn't seen it before and she wondered where Ailis had gotten it from. "When you get there, I want you collect your things and have Tornac do the same, also I need you to ask Padern for the rest of my belongings. We need to leave this region as swiftly as possible."

Rose looked at her in mild surprise. "Are we not going to wait for a ship to take us south?"

"We can't," said Ailis with a shake of her head. "The southern bound ships haven't been getting very far and we must make haste. You haven't been the only one who's made discovers, my dear." She threw the knife. It landed half way down the hill trembling between a stone and a tuft of cotton tailed grass.

"Ailis?" Rose asked after a moment. "Is all well?"

The woman looked up at her sadly. "Nay, Rose, all is not well." A shadow fell over Ailis' face and stood up to collect her knife. "Some things are best left buried in the past," she said, her words were almost lost to the sound of the wind but Rose heard them and stared curiously at Ailis for a long moment. Eventually, they took their leave with a solid promise to meet again.


	42. Chapter 25

___________I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
I have rewritten chapter 1,3, and the first half of 5 as I've decided to fix the chapters that do not flow properly- if you haven't you should read them.  
Enjoy,_

* * *

**Sowing of Seeds**

"Is this necessary?"

Rose looked down at the water as it slithered towards her toes. She audibly gasped as its cold wetness insulted her toes, and she hastily backed away from it, stepping on shards of black, shining rocks that chewed at the skin of her feet. "Yes," she said with a shiver as a stream of seaweed edged closer, "it is."

"I think, I'm fine as is," said Cai, sitting onto the ground stubbornly. "I an't gonna do it. You can't make me."

He hunched his shoulders and looked out at her obdurately, twiddling his thumbs. From a stone ledge above, Thorn looked laughingly at the scene before him and contacted her through their mindlink. _The hatchling probably a different color under all that dirt,_ he said reflectively.

_Undoubtedly,_ said Rose smiling at the waves as they skidded to a bubbling halt on the rocky shore just before her feet. _And his hair is probably white as the driven snow. _Rose shook her head with a laugh. "Thorn shan't let you on him until you bathe," she told the boy. "That's quite a long climb to the top of the cliff."

The boy looked behind them at the high precipice with widening eyes. Roughly, a dozen feet above the sea cliff bent inward creating a small quay, there it buckled just ever so slightly before soaring high above into the endless velvet sky with tiny pearls a-glistened in the velvety gloom. It would a tedious and time consuming climb as the shadows played off the edges of narrow headed rock and pools of saltwater filled every crevice. "You an't gonna make me climb that!" he said in a high nervous voice.

"No, I cannot," she said, "however I can leave you here."

Cai looked at her angrily, his mouth set into a grim line, though she did not see it in the shadowing gloom of night. "Thelma wouldn't make me climb it or bathe!" he said dejectedly throwing a rock at her. It missed skidding to a halt before it was drowned by a spitting wave. She staggered back as the wave crashed against her, wetting her half way up to her knees and a piece slimy seaweed glided over her foot and coiled around her ankle.

The night was clear and bright, and Rose breathed in the salt air, willing herself to unwind as she was still very distressed from her unpleasant meeting with Ailis. The way the woman had assailed onto her was like a savage blow to her face, and she didn't know how she felt about it. She took another deep breath, a light breeze played in the tangles of her hair. "Cai," she said gently, back away from the coastline as another wave came forth. "Thelma is not here."

"That's 'cause you killed her," exclaimed the boy. "You and that horrible Boogey Beast of yers!"

Rose turned to Cai in exasperation. "I did not kill your sister, Cai," she said forcibly.

Cai stood up, stomping his foot on the ground, nearly falling over as it unbalanced him. "That an't the way I remember it!" He paused and his face creased up in sorrow. Tears began to run down his face, making little rivulets in the dirt. "I wanna go home! Take me home! I need ter feed them chick'ns! Namma'll be mad at me if I don't feed them! I havfta go!"

Rose did not reply, turning away to look back out at the ocean which was oddly hypnotic. She would stand there all night if she could just to stare at the crashing waves.

As Cai cried himself out, she waited, occasionally throwing pebbles into the inky water, and after a while he stopped though his chest still made little jumps and hiccups. "Where're we going?" he asked, his anger gone. He gulped hard. "I'm hungry."

She closed her eyes. "If you're hungry go wash yourself off."

Cai nodded, suddenly sensible, and hobbled ankle deep into the ocean to washed off his face and body. Rose turned away in an agony of modesty, and when the boy returned, she handed him the share pair of trousers she had packed. He quickly got dressed, and stood waiting as Rose untied her dress from around her waist and slipped her wet stocking clad feet into her boots. "When are we gonna get food?" he asked with a ghost of cheekiness.

Rose forced herself to stand patiently, as Thorn flew down from the small quay in the cliff where he made himself a perch. "Soon enough."

Cai looked unhappy at her answer, but he let her boost him onto Thorn's back and she climbed up behind him thankful that he no longer stank of urine. Now at least she could cope with the long ride, back to the farmhouse belonging to Padern and his wife, in a little less misery.

.

They spent that night flying in the skies that bordered the ocean, for as long as possible before going inland. A cruel wind drove through Rose's and Cai's thin clothing freezing them almost instantly, and because of this Thorn flew over rising greens of a woodland where the wind eased and was not so bitter. As the dragon flew he was often silent, but his silence seemed calm, the wordlessness of abstraction of thought. When he talked idly with Rose it was trivial things that meant little to the both of them, their previous arguments seemed pity and soon they lingered in the shadows at that back of their minds. Rose sat overlooking the chilled night sky in a dizzy tiredness, watching as the waxing moon rise and the clouds tore open releasing a wavering light, huddled as close as she dared to the boy in front of her for what little warmth he was worth. Cai, who was a tense jangle of nerves and was so cold he could hardly move, did not protest in the least taking to it as a warming comfort.

Eventually the sun rose over the horizon, sending pale glimmers of light but then the rays brightened and fell bright and new on the world below, awakening the birds so that they sung their tidings in a noisy chatter. Rose looked around. They were above a small beech wood, and a road was visible below winding carelessly through the trees.

Some hours later, Thorn moved them deeper into the woods, and finding a broad glad where the sun shone unimpeded, he landed. Cai was so stiff with cold he had to be lifted off Thorn, his teeth chattering. He sat on top of a sun heated rock, rubbing his bare feet until some life came back into them, watching as Rose untied the tattered mattress from Thorn's back. Rose set the mattress down and swung the bag from her back, taking out what little food she had left, she hadn't had the nerve to tell Ailis she had lost the coins given to her and was almost without food, and gave Cai his share. They were all grey with exhaustion, and Rose and Cai ate their meager breakfast wordlessly, as Thorn slept. Rose felt too tired to chew. She sat tiredly in the sun's healing warmth, happy to do nothing and move nowhere, watching the sun play off Thorn's scales. Cai examined his feet with concern and then stretched out on the mattress and slept peacefully in the sun. After an hour or so Thorn woke up.

He and Rose talked through their mindlink so that they would not wake Cai. When Rose hadn't returned from Culdaff Thorn had flown over the city, lightly tapping his mind against every person he could all were with no sign of Rose's glow, and when he realized that she was not there he flew hard over the lands surrounding it. It seemed to him that she had vanished into thin air. He flew for days without stopping in an endless hunt for her, his mood blackening with each passing hour, and it was only by pure luck that he found her at last. He had shuddering with uneasiness for days and so when Rose refused to leave the small hut all he felt was a black anger.

_I don't understand why you are telling me this only now,_ said she shaking her head.

Thorn snorted a curl of dark smoke. _I hadn't thought to tell you before._

_It certainly explains a lot,_ Rose said. _I wish you had told me sooner, though I probably should have known. I'm very glad you had found me when you did, Thorn, I don't know where I would be at this moment had you not._

They continued to different topics. They decided that they were to travel through the Serpent's Vale by night. Thorn wanted now to follow the roads, so not to risk further delay. A little while after they decided this, Rose woke Cai and made a meager repast of fruit and bread and told him of their plans for night travel, he nodded seemly indifferent. Once the sun slipped below the horizon they mounted Thorn, Rose again putting Cai in front of her. They were all refreshed after their rest.

It was a beautiful spring night and no trace of the previous wind now troubled them; the air was balmy and gentle, and the stars blazed overhead casting a faint light on the spirals of clouds, and Rose reached out her hand as if to touch them though she could never reach far enough, and her fingers only grasped empty air.

.

They traveled this way for one more day, passing a great forest that stretched far beyond the horizon, over its crowns which looked from such a height like little sprouts in a vegetable garden until they saw in the distance a cropping, a round meadow, with a house standing gallantly at its center. The scents of grass and flowers rose from below, released by cool night air and rousing wind. The boy fussed from within her arms his words lost to the sounds of wind and beating of wings. Rose felt the mixture of apprehension and excitement stirring within her as they neared the farmhouse.

At last they reached the edges of the crops to the east of the house, and Thorn landed allowing Rose and Cai to descend from his back. They walked in silence until they reached the house, and Thorn returned to the sky likely to find himself a meal and later a place to rest. It was in the early grey hours of the morning, and though Rose was certain no person was awake she pulled the lever set into the wall. They waited for what seemed an age, it was reality a short time, before the door opened and before them stood a tall man with a finely trimmed beard.

"Who's there?" he said, peering out into the dim light. "By the name of Arianwyn the Aged, girl! What are you doing here? Come in and be quick about it." He waved them inside into a well lit antechamber, and locked the door behind them. "Have you replaced Ailis with this boy?"

"No," she said with a shake of head, "Ailis sent me back with him. She requests that you allow him to stay here."

Padern scratched his chin thoughtfully. "You good with animals, boy?" he said bending down to the boy's level.

Cai nodded, swallowing hard. "I need ter go home," he said abruptly, but the request fell onto deaf ears.

"Is there any reason she requested him to stay here, that I need to know of?" he asked, straightening himself.

Rose bit the inside of her cheek. "He has no place else to go," she said.

Padern nodded. "So be it," said he. "We could always use another pair of hands. Did she request anything more?" Rose nodded and after telling what else the woman asked for he rubbed his face tiredly. "It's too early for this. Come on, then, let's find the boy a room and hunt down these things."

Rose shifted her pack, and then Padern led them up several flights of stairs to the guest chambers. She blinked as they walked through the dimly lit corridors. Padern's house was big and grand, the ceiling just high enough to be lost in shadow, it was sparsely but richly furnished, and Rose often saw the glint of gold or a bright tapestry or they would turn on a landing and confront an exquisite statue glimmering whitely through the shadows. They passed many doors, through some of which they could hear the murmurs of waking or the greedy snores of slumber, once they passed a young man who stared at their wild state. Padern didn't bother to try to make pleasant conversation and remained ahead of them in content silence, his hands folded neatly behind his back.

When they came to a familiar looking hallway, Padern opened the first door and poked his head in. "This looks like a fitting room for you, Cai. Make yourself at home. I'll send someone to help you clean up and show you down to breakfast. I have no doubt your hungry."

Cai, whose eyes were as big as saucers, nodded meekly and walked into the room. Padern closed the door behind him and turned to Rose.

"I know you wish to rest," he said, "but I have work to do and not much time before I must start. We'll find these things belonging to Ailis and then I'll leave you to your own devises. This sounds agreeable, yes?"

When Rose agreed, they made their way up yet another set of stairs and into a high chamber with white stone walls. She looked out the window set into the far wall as Padern swooped down on a large chest and searched through it, humming softly under his breath. A white crooked necked crane dipped its head into the reedy water and above it was a swarm long tailed birds squabbling in disgruntlement, a small group of men marched towards the fields for a long day of labor but little else could be seen, and she began to tap her fingers against the grimy skirt of her dress.

After a time Padern poked his head out from behind the chest. "Did she say what it was that she wanted?"

"She did not," said she with a shake of her head.

He sighed in frustration. "How am I to know she wants back?" he said almost to himself. "You're the one traveling with her, come over see if you can figure out what it is that she might want. I'll be back briefly." He stood up and walked out the room, shutting the door none too gently behind him.

Rose bit her lip in debate, and then slowly moved to the chest and peered inside. The first thing she saw was a glass faced doll. It was precious thing, once a child's beloved friend, with dark hair poised into delicate curls under a fine netting of beads and elegantly painted sapphire-colored eyes. She wore red dress that hugged close to her shoulders and arms and then flared out from around her hips in a generous fall to her feet, the sleeves opened out at her elbow like divine lilies. Rose set it aside took out a golden box with mirrors fastened to the sides, inside was a set of sharp edged knives, and a leather bracer covered with a protective silver guard, she set these aside as well and took out an empty quiver for arrows and scrolled parchments soft edged with age, a sword with a blackened hilt but little else. Rose sorted through the scrolls finding that they were maps and letters to a beloved, she scanned through the letters and then put them back but kept out the maps also, she returned the doll and the quiver.

When the door opened it was not Padern but Tornac. For a time they remained apart studying each other's faces. Then with a sigh he come over to her, in his hands was a long sack, and down beside her. "Did you find Teirm to be well?" he asked.

Rose nodded and looked at the bag. "Padern sent you in with that, did he not?"

"He did," Tornac answered. "He's been in quite a rush these past mornings and had requested that I bring this to you." He looked across at her and handed her the sack. "What had happened?"

She shrugged, opening the sack. Inside was a bow. "It's a long story," said Rose examining the wood. "Ailis says we should pack what belongs to us and leave as soon as we can."

"You should rest before we go."

"No, I'll sleep later," she said standing up, thinking of the men who had seen Thorn. There was work to be done, and knowing this she shook off the remains of tiredness. "I'm well enough awake now. We should leave today, and be well out of here before light begins to fail."

Tornac looked at her strangely and then he too stood, shaking himself.

.

Soon they were packed and ready to leave Padern's House. Voirrey embraced them both fondly as they stood on the atrium overlooking for the last time the magnificent vista from her home.

"We shall miss you both," the woman said. "It has been good, having your company. May the gods bring your journey to a safe end."

"And may you and those of your house fair well," said Tornac, smiling. "Your hospitality has been the very best."

"You are welcome anytime," Voirrey said. "Do be sure to tell Ailis that as well."

"I shall," said Tornac, taking a step back. "Until we meet again."

"Good-bye!" said Voirrey, and she stood alone at the door and watched them as they vanished into the gloom of the woodland.

)(.().)(

She looked Eowyn over with ill ease. The horse whinnied, her ears pricking forward, and Rose placed her hand onto the creature's silky nose. "It's alright, my sweet," she whispered soothingly as she twitched up her face in a painful wince. Part of the horse's left front hoof was torn away, revealing pink and bloodied and very raw looking flesh. "How is it that no one taken notice to this?" she asked.

Tornac, who was, with great difficulty, attempting to light a fire in the face of the biting wind, looked up. "What are you speaking of?" he said mildly.

"Whatever might be wrong with Eowyn," said Rose, looking over the bare, empty hills of the Servant's Vale. "I don't understand how I haven't noticed it, as it's not exactly something that could be overlooked. It's little wonder she's been limping all this time."

"Rose," he said. "What are you going on about?"

"Oh! Come here and see yourself," she said franticly waving him over.

Tornac shook his head, and dropping the tinderbox onto a rock ledge, but he came over and gave her an indulging look. Biting her lip, Rose bent down pointing at the horse's injury. He examined it for a time, and lifted the injured leg up to get a close look. Eowyn nickered in protect and shied away, at that moment something bumped Rose's elbow and she started with a yelp.

"Not you," she said pushing Thorn away. "You only frighten her. Off you go now." Thorn made a throaty sound that was meant to be a laugh, and he nudged her again. Then when he did it again twice over, she moodily mindtouched with him. _What is it, Thorn?_

_Will you not be able to ride the creature for a time?_ he asked sounding far too happy.

His head swayed towards her once more, and she batted him away with her hands. _It's likely, _said Rose pushing at his snout. _Though, it is also likely that Tornac may allow to me to ride with him and Lanorgrim._

_I miss flying with you,_ he told her dejectedly.

At last when she pushed his head away, it did not return. _I know. _

Thorn laughed his throaty laugh once more and she turned away from him, ignoring his continued pestering.

"What are we to about Eowyn?" said Rose, returning to her earlier grievance.

Tornac studied her face as she stared frowning at the wounded hoof. "We have two choices. One is to return to the farmhouse and hand Eowyn over so that she can heal properly. The worst it will probably take is a few day at most. Or we treat the wound ourselves and go slow until it heals. And we have no way of know if it will heal."

"We don't have _time._"

Tornac gave her a sour look. "No. But it's the choices we have all the same. Eowyn is injured and we cannot carry on as if she were not."

"We haven't far to go," she said looking out into the distance. "I could always fly with Thorn. He'd enjoy that, anyhow."

Tornac was silent for a time, returning to tinderbox as he thought over their options. A flame finally caught and he cradled it carefully from the kindling to the wood."Ride with him if you believe you should but know that I don't like it."

.

Until Eowyn gained her injury their journey to Teirm had been swift and uneventful. In a way Rose was more than glad to keep to the roads, it would be a pleasant balm to her nerves to be getting well out of the coastal region and back within the safety of being east of the Spine, away from those men. By now she had told Tornac of everything that had happened, and the man had more or less forgiven her for running off as she had. With this acceptance from him, a peace spread over them as they traveled and they made good time. They had left the woodlands behind them within the first couple of days and ridden swiftly down the Vale's road, the rock riddled hills all around them.

The first night Rose had sat morosely as she retold of her excursion, and Tornac sat not far from her, polishing her sword with a rag in a very serious manner. "I must ask," he had said. "What it is that troubles you? Your witnessing of the mother's and her child's atrocious death or seeing that it was the Empire's men who dealt it?"

Rose did not answer, but remained looking into the flickering of the flames.

"Good and bad are a reflection of the human heart," he said after a time. "There is not one without the other. Do you think that the Varden's men-at-arms are any different than the Empire's? That they have not washed their hands with the same vile blood? The King may not deem this a time of war but it is, as long as there is blood being spread there is war. And war, Rose, brings out the cruel likeliness in all of us."

"Those are not exactly comforting words," she said shifting on the ground. "Saying that there is small doorway of corruption in every direction we turn, even within ourselves."

"Aye," said Tornac. "Do not shut yourself to it, nevertheless, that would be the greatest mistake."

"How so?"

Tornac shook his head. "That's something Ailis wishes to speak to you about, and I agree that she should be the one to so."

Her frown deepened and she looked over at the sleeping form of Thorn. "What would the difference would it be between you talking to me about this and Ailis?"

Tornac shrugged and swiftly changed the subject, instead to scold her on the improper treatment of her sword. She hutched her cloak around her and stared balefully into the depths of the wood, pondering over what Tornac had said. Sometimes it seemed to her that he purposely placed that seed doubt in her mind knowing full well that it'd grow out well of her control.

* * *

_To A: Thank you for the reveiw, I'm very glad your enjoying this story. But I want you to know that everything I have written goes right into my plot and character development, and that the story is moving along as fast as I can get without it seeming stiff and disconnected from the characters._


	43. Side Story 18

_______________________________________I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.  
This was a outtake for the last chapter that I edited and turned into a Side Story.  
Anyhow, enjoy, and tell me what you think,_

* * *

**A Somewhat Promise**

Cai nodded dumbly, not entirely understanding the question. He had never felt so self-conscious in his life. He had been forced to take a bath, which he hadn't minded much, and then put into some fine cotton blue breeches and a long-sleeved crimson tunic, and soft black leather boots. He wasn't all too sure he liked the boots, it felt strange to enclose his feet in something. The woman, she had told him that her name was Rohosia, had done something to his hair too, it was shorter than before and, free of dirt, an appreciably lighter color, and it now no longer fell into his face like he liked it to. He tugged again at his hair with dislike, and perceiving this Rohosia gently pulled his hand away from his hair, and said quickly: "I had asked if you would like to break your fast. You are hungry, are you not?"

Cai blinked and stared. The grumbling movements in his belly told him that he was very hungry. He hadn't eaten properly in days, having only hard, tasteless bread and a dried fruit and once an apple.

More than food, Cai wanted to go home. Ever slowly, as it always was when thought about his home, an anger build inside his chest and his eyes prickled with tears. It wasn't fair that no one listened to him even though he knew he couldn't return him, he had asked countless times. He saw what had happened but Cai knew that it couldn't be true. Things like that just don't happen, and Dunion promised that he would keep them safe this time... Cai wiped his eyes with his sleeve and pinched himself.

"Yeh," he said. "After I eat, can I go home?"

"Where's your home?" she said, moving to sit next to him of the bed. It was a big bed, bigger than Cai had ever seen before, that stood proudly in the corner of the room with a soft, embellished cover.

He leaned back on the bed, running his hands over its softness. "Far from here." He yawned. "And the bed isn't so big."

Rohosia fought back a smile. Cai thought that she was a pretty enough lady, with twisted up light brown hair and bright eyes but she wore strange clothing; a delicate colorful dress with tiny patterns stitched into it. It would be ruined within moment when she went outside to work. He didn't understand why she was wearing it.

"I'll see what I can do," she said. "Why don't we get something to eat until then."

She led him down the stair, which Cai negotiated hesitatingly, looking around in wonder. He found the house bewildering: there were too many chambers, too many passages leading to unguessed-at destinations. He was used to small places, with one or two rooms, and no stairs anywhere.

At last they reached a small dining room, where there was a dark wooden table set with plate, fine and plain, and piled high with fruits and breads and other goodies. There were people already seated, in the middle of their meal, and they looked with he and Rohosia entered before bowed their heads in greeting and then returning to their meal. Cai faltered, feeling awkward and coarse, and Rohosia had to nudge him forward before he would sit down and eat. It wasn't long before he completely captivated by the food in front of him.

After breakfast Cai returned to his room, as he was very tired and his sick leg was very sore from climbing all those stairs and walking so far. For a time he just sat in silence, he didn't want to go to sleep each time he did he got bad dreams and then he'd wake up feeling woozy and unsettled. He sat for what seemed like ages, debating on how tired he really was, when he heard steps in the corridor and a knock on the door. "May I come in?" Cai didn't move, unused to such courtesies, and a knock sounded again. "Cai?" He did nothing, and after a time he heard an impatient sigh. He smiled slightly to himself. "Cai, I'm coming in," she said and then the door opened.

Rose stood in the corridor dressed in a long green tunic with red pattern on the borders, with a dark shirt under it. Her hair was braided down the front and tied back with a piece of cloth. She looked, he thought hesitantly glancing at her face, very tired as she shifted from foot to foot, with a long winding staff in her hand.

"What do you want?" he asked rudely.

She frowned and closed her eyes for a short moment. "I didn't wake you, did I?"

Cai shrugged, and waved her inside. She came in hesitantly and set the staff on top of the bed not far from him. Cai turned and studied it with interest. "What is it?" he said, poking at it.

"I believe that it was your brother's," she said. "I thought that you might want to have it." She looked over him and bit her lip as if she was going to say more.

He glared at her angrily, and kicked his feet out. "Give it ter Dunion then," he spat. "I an't wanting it."

"I would like you keep it all the same," she said without emotion.

"No, you don't." He pushed the staff away from him as if would burn him.

"You _should_ keep it, then," she said, leaning down to look at him in the eye. He flinched away from her. She had a distant look about her, like she wasn't speaking with him only. "I'm going to leave, Cai, and you have to stay here." There was a pause and she smiled slightly."The staff would be much safer here with you, anyhow. It brings good fortune, and I cannot risk the wrong person getting ahold of it. Will you keep it safe for me?"

"So that you can it to Dunion?" he asked, suddenly happy, pulling the staff onto his lap. "You're going to look for him? And then I can go home."

Rose looked mildly shock, but slowly she nodded. "You'll stay here until then, won't you?"

Cai nodded excitedly. Of course he would, he could wait for Dunion. "Do you promise to look for him?"

"I promise to try," she said after a slight hesitation. Her eyes became focused again as she stood up. "Farewell, Cai." And then she was gone.

Cai looked over the staff, he knew it wouldn't bring him luck and that his brother wouldn't come for him and that Thelma and Mathon were gone forever and he'd likely never see Abagail and Namma again, and that he it was foolish to believe that it wasn't so but he wanted to. And so he did. Sometimes the untruth of delusion was better than reality.


	44. Side Story 19

_________________________________________I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.  
What a nightmare this was to write- I'm **never** going to something like this again! My brother(I blaming him for this), beleive it or not, began this when I was writing chapter 10, and that's where it takes place: when Thorn and Rose and Ailis are in the woods and Ailis is showing Rose the traps and Thorn runs off. It also explains Thorn's slight dislike towards weasels. I imagine that as Thorn matures his vocab changes. Anyhow, my brother never finished- writting only the first senentce and so I took it over. I'll have a guide for what it what at the bottom.  
Enjoy,_

* * *

_First Hunt_

The crisp-bright-translucent-powder crushed under his bottom-pads creating sounds not unlike the softer cracklings of his egg. He watched the two-legged-with-long-curved-stick-on-back pointing at a prickly-bristly-tangle and the-he-chose-to-hatch-for bent low to the soft-white-mush-covered-ground as they chattered in a low-soft-sound. He lingered around them, clouting his length-stalk-attached-his-hind on the crisp-bright-translucent-powder. He liked the sound.

The-he-chose-to-hatch-for turned around and looked at him, he happily thumped in response, and suddenly the-he-chose-to-hatch-for turned away. He stopped his thumping. Looking around him at the long-thick-tingle-dry-spiked-rods sticking out of the crisp-bright-translucent-powder, he shifted and stood. He walked around in a loop, paying close attention to the indentations that were made in crisp-bright-translucent-powder from his bottom-pads. He saw a mass of the crisp-bright-translucent-powder that was heaped high above his snout and he leapt onto it, his limp-outgrowths-flaps fluttering as he dived into the pile. He flickered out his tasting-barb-switch from his snout and touched the crisp-bright-translucent-powder. It was wet-cold, he trembled with delight.

Unexpectedly a cheeping-grouse-chattering-noise sounded close to him and he thrust his top out of mound of crisp-bright-translucent-powder, and searched for the thing that made the cheeping-grouse-chattering-noise. A long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature cheeped and chattered at him. In return he grumbled-that-deep-rumble-in-his-chest at it in warning, not wanting long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature to come any closer to him or his pile of crisp-bright-translucent-powder. Long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature made cheeping-grouse-chattering-noise at him again, its sight-ovals glittered in the circle-in-the-day-sky-light, and he grumbled-that-deep-rumble-in-his-chest once more. Brandishing his length-stalk-attached-his-hind -attached-his-hind so that it scattered the crisp-bright-translucent-power into the emptiness of the air, he crouched down and sprung at the long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature in hopes to protect his mound of crisp-bright-translucent-power and the-he-chose-to-hatch-for. However long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature was much fast then he was and swiped at him with his pointed-foot- spines before scattering away behind a larger mound of crisp-bright-translucent-power. It was larger than swelling mount of bright-translucent-power, and he chased after it.

Long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature scurried around a thick-round-cut-wood, over a small-hard-mass and under many groupings of long-thick-tingle-dry-spiked-rods, but he did not allow long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature to scuttle away from him. He was going to catch long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature, he was sure of it. Chasing after long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature, he ducked through prickly-bristly-tangle and skidded around big-tall-branched-spikes and went and went until his legs ached, like a heat from fire.

At last long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature stopped, sliding slightly on a ring of shiny-frozen-slip, and he was able to get closer to it. A warming glow of brightness grew up from his middle. He speed up scattering a gathering damp-squelchy-colored-flat-foliage, and opened his maw as the long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature. As he got closer to long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature something went _snap_, and the sound rung through the air, and he was pulled back from long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature at an alarming rate. Within moments he was hanging wrong-way-up in an odd position. He was being held up only by one of his rear-standing-limbs, and below him long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature made its cheeping-grouse-chattering-noise at him then ran off and disappeared down a burrow-hole in the distance.

He flapped his limp-outgrowths-flaps, and struggled but the strong-twisting-strand-cord around his rear-standing-limbs would not give, and long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature was gone. For a time he grumbled-that-deep-rumble-in-his-chest and spattered and fizzle-whispered in anger, trying as hard as he could to get out from the looped hold of the strong-twisting-strand-cord but nothing worked, and after a time he just hang there, swaying in current-of-air.

Until he heard a sound. He knew the sound and who it belonged to and then he knew he had to get back to the soft-white-mush-covered-ground and get long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature. Long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature would be a good repayment, but it was not only that, he now sought revenge on long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature

He lifted himself in a painful position and swung about, but when that did not work, he lifted his bulk again, and with help from his limp-outgrowths-flaps flapping, he gnawed at the strong-twisting-strand-cord. When strong-twisting-strand-cord broke it made snapping resort that echoed throughout the many big-tall-branched-spikes and he fell, landing painfully on his backside.

He rolled over and shot to the burrow-hole long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature disappeared into. With little effort he stuck his head into the burrow-hole and grumbled-that-deep-rumble-in-his-chest and fizzle-whispered, and he heard scuffling noises and hisses of warning, and then he saw Long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature. He used his sharp-bottom-points to dig at the burrow-hole, but the burrow-hole would get any bigger, and he grumbled-that-deep-rumble-in-his-chest again, blowing curling-colorless-vapor at long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature in anger.

He heard the noise again, that summoning sound, and he pulled his head out from the burrow-hole. For a moment he looked behind him as the-he-chose-to-hatch-for called to him . He felt disappointed. He didn't have long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature . When The-he-chose-to-hatch-for called him once more, he turned back at long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature in burrow-hole and blow out curling-colorless-vapor in warning and grumbled-that-deep-rumble-in-his-chest. He hoped long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature understood his message, he would get long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature one day, and long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature wouldn't be able to trap him and wound his pleasure so easily. Once he was sure Long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature understood this, as it scuffled and chirped and hide deeper in burrow-hole, he turned away from it, hitting the top of burrow-hole with his length-stalk-attached-his-hind, and went straight for the-he-chose-to-hatch-for.

* * *

_crisp-bright-translucent-powder -snow_  
_bottom-pads -paws_  
_prickly-bristly-tangle -sweetbriar/briars_  
_length-stalk-attached-his-hind -tail_  
_two-legged-with-long-curved-stick-on-back -Ailis_  
_the-he-chose-to-hatch-for -Rose_  
_low-soft-sound -soft voices_  
_mush-covered-ground -damp or muddy ground_  
_long-thick-tingle-dry-spiked-rods -large brushes or trees_  
_limp-outgrowths-flaps -wings_  
_tasting-barb-switch –tongue  
__wet-cold –wet and cold, mushy  
cheeping-grouse-chattering-noise –a high pitch cheeping sound  
long-small-colorless-wiry-fuzz-creature –weasel  
grumbled-that-deep-rumble-in-his-chest –growl  
sight-ovals –eyes  
circle-in-the-day-sky-light –sun  
damp-squelchy-colored-flat-foliage –leaves  
wrong-way-up –upside down  
burrow-hole – tunnel, hole, den, lair  
strong-twisting-strand-cord –rope  
fizzle-whispered –hissed  
current-of-air –wind  
curling-colorless-vapor –smoke_


	45. Chapter 26

_____________I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
Enjoy,_

* * *

**The Vantage Point**

It was a morning of dripping fog, presaging an early spring, when they rode out of Teirm. The horses snorted unhappily, skittered over the hard ground and spattering the puddles, churning them to mud. Rose watched, in a dull tedium, as day began to dawn into clear skies in which rode huge clouds, silver and grey beneath the white and gold above. The air held a dampness to it, and she could feel its moisture sticking to her clothing and hair. Ahead of her was Ailis and Tornac, both of them walked swiftly, beside their horses, up a steep hill winding the scattered streets and alleys.

Rose and Tornac arrived in Teirm the early evening the day before just as the sun began descend behind the high walls. A pair of guards, who stood permanently by the gate, had demanded identification and then, in almost an apathetic fashion, one of them waved them in. They had walked for a ways, through the streets until they reached the Croaking Toad, a dark but cheerful inn with a lovely tavern attached to it, where they later had met with Ailis.

While Tornac and Rose had traveled to Teirm, Ailis had restocked their supplies, these now weighed down heavily on the horses. Eowyn's damaged hoof, which had been cleaned and wrapped each night before Rose and Tornac arrived, had festered and the bandages had tattered, covered with filth, and the moment Ailis saw it she had healed it with magic. The horse was now in decent form, her hoof completely healed over, but the task had put Ailis in a foul mood. Moments after this, they had eaten a meal together in their rooms and the woman told them of the news she had heard, most of it boded ill for the region and none of it held the slightest rumor of Thorn, this was something Ailis had listened out for. Also they had talked through their plans at the inn.

"I have told you this before," Ailis had said glancing to Rose, "that many of the ships headed south have been lost to the seas, and numbers of merchants are no longer shipping overseas. This don't help us any as I was planning on us being able to board one of these ship."

"Has anyone the faintest idea on who might be responsible for this?" said Tornac, leaning back in this chair. "It sounds like the dealings of pirates, if you ask me."

Ailis shook her head. "I don't think so. That's what is baffling the people, the merchants being hurt by this are the same people over and again. What's stranger still is that there seems to be a pattern to it."

Tornac nodded his head thoughtfully. "I suppose that we shall have to continue our voyage over land, then, yes? Kuasta is not a possibility at all?"

Ailis looked up quickly, shaking her head. "It is," she had said, "but if these dealings are happening here in Teirm I have no doubt the same is occurring in Kuasta as well. I would rather dislike it to travel all the way there just to find out that we shall have to return north to through the mountain pass."

Rose, who was on the verge of sleep, stirred at this. "There are other passes through the Spine," she said tiredly.

"And all of them are exceedingly perilous at the best of times, and this is not the best of times," said Ailis, moving around the beans on her plate with disinterest. "I'm not willing to take the risk of traveling through them."

Nodding, Rose subsided and continued to listen. She didn't like this thought, of routing back through the pass and traveling east of the mountains once again. It seemed to her, that this proposal could change the moment they reached the pass as many of Ailis plans did, but the woman had a demined look about her and Rose knew that her mind was set.

"No road is without risk," Tornac said grimly. "We can go and investigate Kuasta, and hope that the attacks have not affected their ports. If word has gotten out about our companion the Empire would not expect us to travel south, even if they've track him and Rose as far as here. They will expect us to be fleeing them, and I think there has been hearsay though you have not heard it."

"No," Ailis said avidly, her face darkening. "I think this is our best gamble. We have no choice."

She acted as if she was wanting to say more but did not, instead spreading out a map in the table, holding down the curling parchment with her hands. Tornac, who shook his head but argued no further, pored over it as well. Ailis wanted to ride as quickly as possible to the mountain pass, running along the Toark River which pierced the Spine, which would bring them back out to the eastern country. After that, she planned to go south keeping strictly to the roads and afterwards she would not say.

That following day, they awoke before the sun, while it was still night, and prepared themselves. As they turned down the road, Rose looked behind at Teirm for the last time allowing the sight to etch itself into her memory. Teirm had been first built many hundreds years before around cliffs that trust up more than a hundred feet, before gently swooping down to a on a low pinnacle of rock on which the city stood like colossal stalks of quartz. The city of Teirm did in truth rise up on a giant tor that stretched cliff to cliff, it was on this incline that the city was built. On one side the city scoped down and stopped at the harbor, a small inlet with a narrow mouth, bordering on the city side by a wide stone quay, and on the other it inclined more gently down to the plains of the east.

The original buildings of the grand city of Teirm were now little more than ashes and broken shambles, hidden deep beneath the cobbled streets. Over the many years that had passed, the city had been rebuilt from savage fires and treasure-seeking brigands and ruthless Urgals and rushing floods, until the city earliest arrangement and name was long forgotten, and over its wreckage stood Teirm. The buildings of Teirm rose high in its center where the city's garrison lived, companies of stern warriors numbering in the hundreds, and low at its edges, a design constructed on defense with very little thought of leisure. Even in the days of the Riders, when Teirm had long fallen from its greatness, it was proud and strong.

.

For the rest of the day, they rode through the coastal region, through town and hamlet and past lone farmhouses. Some places were as devastated as those in the south, abandoned with shutters swinging drunkenly in the breeze, while others seemed completely unaffected. Eventually, the mountains seemed to emerge from their swathe of distance all at once, as the leagues of hazy air had held them at bay, making them mere pictures and not real things at all. From the foots of the mountains, riding eastward along the Toark, it was as if the eye could not take in such vastness. From here Rose could see only the lesser peaks, and even they looked grim and forbidding. But despite this, over everything was a pall. The sky remained grimly overcast then, late in the afternoon, it began to drizzle. Only when the light became too hard to see did they make camp under the shelter of granite overhang covered with curling moss and white tailed grasses.

"Have I ever told of you of the heavenly dancers?" Tornac asked, dishing out the barley stew, in a strange tone.

Rose nodded guardedly. "Yes," she said. "A good number of times."

As a child she had heard of the tale many times, though then it was told to bore her into slumber well: a tragic tale it was of two lovers who met, and wended their way to the dungeons of a foul-hearted king, and there they died beyond hope or help of the gods. Their spirits lived however, and in the north, a place at the setting sun's right hand and lies on either side of life, sometimes a curtain of light fills the skies as the borders of life and death become less certain, and the lovers are able to guide, in voices like the star, those in perils away from a fate such as theirs. But, it was, even so, a child's tale.

"I believe this night to one of them," he said. "I can hear it, like a strange music from the stars."

"There is no sound," said Rose worriedly glancing at Tornac. "There is no music from the voices of the stars."

Ailis huffed unhappily. "If there is then I have yet to hear it, Tornac, and I can't say that I not glad I have not."

"Because you cannot hear them does not mean that they are not there," he said.

Rose shifted uncomfortably. "It is only a tale, Tornac. You shouldn't take it such sincerity."

"There is a truth in tales," said Tornac looking on humouredly. "Small truths nevertheless earnest ones. For that reason, some people fear fables and others yearn for them. The truth is a lockless door, one can try to latch it shut but it will always open, somehow."

She looked at him in confusion for a moment, and then noticed that he was not looking in her direction but instead at Ailis. The woman stilled under his gaze, then moved to set her bowl aside. There was a silence then, in which the chirping of crickets and croaking of frogs and hooting of night birds sounded, for a time that was all that was heard.

"This will be the last of the rain for a time," said Ailis, leaning back on her hands, changing the discussion. "At least I hope so. It would be nice to strike good weather for the next few days."

"Yes, it would," said Tornac tiredly.

Ailis wiggled her feet. "Nicer still, to go through the Pass without anything bad happening."

They were silent, again, for a time, and Rose listened to the fire snapping and an owl call out into the night, and far off a dog's feral howling. A little moonlight, that escaped the blanketing of clouds, glimmered greyly onto Thorn's scales who lay at the edge of the overhang. He moved in his sleep, his tail flickering restlessly, and made a humming noise but he otherwise still.

Not long after they finished eating did Rose feel a wave of exhaustion sweep over her, and she bid everyone a good night. She scrambled down to the bottom of the hallow and lay down, looking at the roof of stone over her. After a while she sank into a restless sleep trouble by vague, disquieted dreams.

.

They broke their fast the next day in the grey light before dawn, barely able to see each other through a thick fog that had descended in the dark hours, and entered the pass soon afterward. It was darker there, in that forested pass, and Rose felt its darkness press around her. Since the night before, Ailis acted notably colder towards Tornac, rebuffing his attempts at conversation, forcing them to ride through the mountains in silence. Above them flew Thorn, a dot in the vastness of the hazed sky, with whom Rose struck up a conversation, mainly to keep her mind away from the deeds that had happened here, the last time they traveled through, and all that preceded it.

The track was heavily strewn with rotting leaves, which dampened the sound of their hoof beats, and was punctuated by stone fords from the many streams that crossed it. As the day drew on Rose began to feel oppressed by the silence, and she and Thorn spoke less and less frequently. She thought often of the thieves and the exchange the night before, but by the time the afternoon came she had forcibly pushed it from her mind and listened instead to the birdsong. She saw no living thing, the birds remained hidden in the branches, but once she thought she saw the red form of a deer disappearing, swift as wind, between the trees but it was so brief it could have been a trick of the eye; otherwise she saw no living thing.

When they drew close to Ludène, late that afternoon, they skittered around it altogether. Rose watched the buildings rise from the wood, partly veiled by masses of leaves, and listened to the chitchat of people, and among the people, she saw glimpses of the smart red tunics of soldiers, their voices rising above the crowd. Ailis who had looked grim before, scowled even deeper and hastened their pace.

Impelled by an increasing sense of urgency, they pushed their horses hard and soon reached the edge of the plateau. Here the land tipped precipitously down and the going was slower; they had to pick their way carefully along steep, narrow tracks winding through the tingles of prickling juniper and bristly stems of fiddleneck and leafy packs of amaranthus that grew grandly around bleakly speckled granite and mazes of small, noisy streams. Rose squinted up at the obelisks of stone, fragments of somber sky between, sometimes she would see Thorn flying there, zigzagging in and out of the columns. She was suspended between delight at the astounding vistas that sometimes opened up before her and a constant anxiety about the dizzying depths and heights that seemed to wait only a few steps from her feet. After a while, the woodland seemed to have thinned slightly and the road broadened, and so they mounted and cautiously pressed on.

Then Ailis stopped suddenly, and Eowyn nearly ran into Lanorgrim's rump. Rose turned, her mouth open to a comment, her face cross, and saw a sudden flash and the sound of a whirling bee that came from above and before them, then the _thawk_s as the bolts hitting home. Tornac shuddered from the impact, an evil-looking arrow was protruding from just below this collarbone. It had passed right through his back. Shadowless reared nervously, shaking his head, then screamed as he too was struck. For a short moment Tornac clung to his back, like a thistle, and then toppled sideways from the saddle.

A wordless scream reverberated in the small canyon, and it took her an instant to recognize that it came from her. Forgetting everything else, Rose spurred the horse around and dove off of the saddle, and in that moment he lifted his head and opened his eyes and looked up into Rose's face. His eyes were very blue and clear, and his face very pale. He opened his mouth as if to speak, but produced only a bubbling of blood. There was no chance Tornac could be saved, she understood with an agony as clear and sharp as a flesh wound, as his head dropped and he stilled.

Something brushed against her mind, and this jolted her from her dumbfounded state. _Rose, you have to move this instant,_ Ailis said into her mind. And then when she noticed that Rose she sent a bolt that nearly knocked Rose over. _Now!_

Rose shook her head in confusion, but had no time to think as a wave of black tipped arrows shot down from the peaks. She instinctively ran from the bolts, to her horse, and desperately scrambled onto her back. Rose heard the screams of the horses, a panicked sound like splitting rock, and just hung on as Eowyn plunged forward, Lanorgrim stretching ahead. The horse's ears were flat against their skulls, their tails stuck between their legs. She looked up, pushing her hair out of her eyes, her chest heaving in great sobs of breath, and with a sick horror saw a gang of men jumping down from the rocks, and arrows still raining down in great falls these were somehow weaving around them, as if redirected by some giant shield. Eowyn spun herself around the sharp bend, making Rose's neck crack with the violence of the turn, and tore down the road bolting for her life.

* * *

_A/N: __I cannot begin to tell you how much I did not what to write this chapter, I've delayed and delayed and came up with reason after reason so that I would not have to write this- but I knew it could not delayed any longer. There were points that I wanted to hit before this chapter was written, and I did. It was time. So, it was my intention, to kill Tornac, before I even began to write this story. But I didn't want to because Tornac is probably my favorite character... but his death is not meaningless, there is a reason for it.  
Anyhow, there are two more things that I have to say. First, I will not put the side stories on a separate/new story, they are a part of Lirouratr and therefore will continue, though not as often. If you don't like them, don't read them. Second, if you want to know what happened to Dunion before and after chapter 22, I posted a separate story called "North." When my brother and I came up with him and his family we came up a whole story for him, something I couldn't resist writing.  
If you could, please review. _


	46. Chapter 27

_______________I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
A quick note. Eragon, Brom, and Saphira are on their way to Dras-Leona, for those who are wondering._  
Enjoy,

* * *

**Pursuit**

They raced around a hairpin bend in the round, the air whistling loudly in their ears, stones falling noisily into the emptiness below dislodged from skidding hooves. Rose looked over her shoulder and glimpsed Shadowless chasing madly after them completely out of control, and behind the frightened horse, were two soldiers in pursuit, their voices raised in shouts. They had a good lead, but she realized that Lanorgrim and Eowyn as well as Shadowless- for as long as the horse would follow them- were already tired after a day's hard riding, would be able to outpace fresh horses. Then she concentrated on not falling off Eowyn, her body shuddered in violent uncontrollable tremors.

"Halt!" the men were shouting, their voices rough and hard. "Under the Order of the Laws of the Crown you are commanded to halt!"

_Don't stop, whatever you do,_ said Ailis into Rose's mind. _Do not stop._

Rose leaned forward in the saddle, the wind of their speed lashing her hair into her mouth. How long was it to the other side of the pass? It couldn't be too far. She began to worry that they had taken a wrong turn; but they had passed no forks in the road- there were no wrong turns here. Beneath her, she could feel Eowyn tiring.

At last it seemed that ahead, the mountain path widened and faded and the flat land around the jagged highlands changed into a thawing clay pathway. Ailis turned sharply off the trail and into the shelter of trees, plunging through the banking snow now beginning to melt, and puddles of creeping slush, and began turning Lanorgrim sharply, constantly changing directions. Rose rode in her wake, concentrating on following her movements. A branch almost swept her from Eowyn's back, giving her a stringing lash across her cheek, and she swept down lower, her head brushing against the horse's neck. The noise of the horses crashing through the forest meant that Rose could hear nothing of their pursuers, but she thought that they surely could not be far behind. She had now completely lost sense of direction.

They came across a steadily flowing stream and Ailis rode down its sharp banks and urged Lanorgrim into the water. Eowyn snorted in protect and followed him, Shadowless not far behind. Now they slowed down, trotting slowly downstream, the shallow water frothing around the horse's fetlocks. The rushing of the water covered any noise they made. They had gone some distance before Ailis took Lanorgrim up the opposite bank. Here there was a close-knit grove of ancient, thick-branched oaks, growing so close together their branches intertwined. They dismounted, and led the horses into the grove.

Over everything was a peaceful silence, save for the tiny noise of the woodland that rose up before them; the whispering of leaves, the scurrying of a small animal. Rose slowly sunk down to the ground, her legs felt weak like they could no longer hold her, and became aware of the smell of the damp earth, rich with rotting leaves. Tears, she didn't know were there, burned her skin as they slid down her cheeks, and she wiped at them.

She looked up at the horses, waiting something to look at other than the ground or trees or sky, and watched them with growing numbness. They had cooled down in their trot in the stream, and were no longer winded; but their coats were still streaked white with sweat and their cheek freckled with foam. The air held a chill to it, but there was no breeze and it was not cold enough to freeze the water on the horses' coats, though she and Ailis would have to wipe them dry. Shadowless had a small gash were he had been hit with an arrow, but was otherwise unharmed, Tornac's saddlebags hung limply from his back.

Her lip wobbled and her eyes burned with new tears. She sniffled and wiped again at her eyes. She felt empty; the place where grief and anger should have been, they were not, only emptiness. She bit at her lip to still its quivering.

"I think we have thrown them off our trail," said Ailis stroking Lanorgrim's neck. "For the moment. But I have no idea where we are."

Rose said nothing, Ailis' words seemed blurred almost like nonsense but slowly she understood them, and nodded. Ailis bent down next to her, until she was sitting on the ground, and Rose nearly toppled over in fright as Ailis put her hand on hers. "Come here." The woman hesitantly pulled her to her chest, and wrapped her arms around her, holding her as if she were a fragile, small child, her fingers threading through Rose's hair.

There was something squeezing her chest, shortening her breath, and her eyes stung as more tears came. These she didn't bother to wipe away. If felt as if, in that moment, her soul had been swept away; emotion strangling it wholly, until eventually it had collapsed, leaving behind nothing but the essence of swirling misery. For a time Rose stayed there, allowing Ailis to hold her, to comfort her until the feeling passed, and then with a shattered breath she pulled away, wiping at her face. She stood up and in slow movements moved to the edge of the trees. Her body shuddered with violent, uncontrollable tremors, as she stared out blinkingly, her eyes now dry. Though her heart still pounded in her chest, and she couldn't seem to breath in enough air. "I'm going to get some wood for a fire," she said softly, and then staggered out of the marquee-like copse.

.

Rose didn't know how long she wandered around the woodlands, or how she found her back, but eventually, after the sun vanished from the sky and the shadows lengthened and darkened, she began to regain her ability to think and feel as the numbness slowly ebbed though it never completely went away. She didn't know how long she sat on the forest floor before she something startled her and she stood up then made her way back the camp, collecting odd bits of wood.

When she did return, Ailis sat by an already made fire, poking at it absently, and behind her was Thorn relaxing in the flame's glow. Rose looked at the dragon and started, she had forgotten about him completely, and sent out her mind to him. To her relief, he instantly replied.

_Did your walk serve you well?_ Thorn asked.

Rose looked at him and shook her head._ I don't want talk at this moment,_ she said. _I only wish to ask whether or not you have been hurt._

_ I have not._ Thorn opened his eye and began to sweep his tail across the ground, crushing what little snow lay on ground, turning it brown as it mixed with dirt.

As she walked into the edges of the ember light, she cut off her mindtouch with Thorn, and Ailis looked up. She considered Rose for a moment and then, took a bowl and poured a stew of barley and lean meat into it, she stood up and pressed the bowl into her hand, exchanging it for the meager handful of wood. "Eat," she said fussily. "I don't care if you're not hungry, you must eat regardless."

Rose looked at the bowl in distaste, before seating herself, the smell made her stomach churn. She took a hesitant sip, barely tasting it. She could feel the cold growing, the soup hardly warmed her.

Ailis sat down and was silent for a time, allowing Rose to eat, her eyes darkening. "Rose, we need to talk about what happened in the pass," she said, watching as Rose shifted uncomfortably, but said nothing. "It's the only way you'll be able to come to terms with what has happened."

Rose looked at her guardedly. "Not now, Ailis."

"You're sure?"

There was something stuck in her throat and with an effort she swallowed it down. "I'm entirely certain."

Ailis sucked in her lips, and dipped her head. "Tell me when you wish to know," she said, and then patted Rose's knee and bounced to her feet. "I'll take first watch."

Rose doubted she would ever want to know what had happened. She set down the stew, no longer able to eat it, and stood as well. "Have a good night, Ailis," she said.

"Try to get some sleep, dear."

An owl began its night call, and Rose started, looking around. She went to her bags, and unrolled her bedroll before crawling into it. For a long time she stared at the fire, watching the golden-red flames flicker and rise and fall and quiver. It didn't seem possible that Tornac had died, and traveled to the beyonds of the Void. As she lay there, the memory kept creeping back on her, first image and then another. She didn't search for it, something within her pulled back the terrible realization of what had happened. But randomly, inexorably, images floated into her mind, until finally she covered her head with her hands, pressing the heels of her palms against her eyes, casting the images from her mind.

She lay awake for a long time, listening to the night, shifting restlessly on the hard ground. The stars glittered between the bare branches in the darkness above. Rose stared at the bright path of the Atodrad, the rider of the stars, which arched in the middle of the sky. She had never seen it shine so brightly. It was said that the dead walked that road on their way to the Void, that the Void was not much of a Void, but a gateway into the afterlife. She wondered if Tornac lingered there, watching her as he made his way to those gates, and the thought brought her no comfort. He simply had to be long gone- past the Gates of the Void.

A fresh tear rolled down her face, and she sighed heavily, wiping at it, grabbing at her blanket almost as if she drowning. Somewhere behind her, Thorn shifted and moved and she felt him lay close to her, his tail resting close to her head. And she looked up at him, but his eyes were already closed and he hummed softly, as he forged sleep. For once she didn't move away from him, as his tail moved closer her, she didn't fear that he would begin his thumping in the night. She simply watched him or the fire or Ailis or the stars until her eyes burned and she could no longer remain awake.

.

When she awoke, the sky was highlighted with the pinks and oranges of early morning. She sat up, realizing that Ailis hadn't woken her for her shift, and looked around. Her eyes wandered over the packs and the snorting horses, their breath churning white, Thorn, the deadened fire, a pair of discarded boots, and Ailis who lay asleep. For a moment she looked for Tornac, and then, with a shattered gasp, she stood up knowing that she would not see him.

A torrid surge of grief physically rocked her, and she forced it aside. At the moment she didn't want to examine her feelings or her thoughts. Instead she sat herself beside Thorn and watched as the sun rose into the sky, as the bright colors faded to a burnished blue, and the creatures of the woodland awoke, and a robin above flittered from branch to branch.

.

Ailis woke not long after Rose had, her eyes red and puffy, and they continued their way through the woodland. In the peace that surrounded them, the incident the day before seemed like a strange dream. Sometimes Rose forgot about it all together, turning around with a comment on her lips and upon seeing Shadowless alone, without his rider, she'd fall silent, the loss of Tornac anew and would stare out into the forest.

Dewlings hung from each twig, sparkling in the shafts of sunlight that fell between the tangled limbs of branches above a small deer track. Looking to each side, Rose saw the trees were here more thickly grown, wrapping the woods in darting shadows. Sometimes in the distance she saw a vagrant patch of sun where a great oak had crashed to the ground and lay twined leafless ivies and mistletoe, or where grey out crops of granite rose suddenly out of the forest floor. The ground was thick with patches of bracken, pushing out of the wreckage of winter it mild green fonds. Similar to the forested pass through the Spine, very little wildlife was seen, only the twittering of birds above were heard. Once in a while little creatures like weasels with glossy freckled brown coats, and occasional foxes and hares and birds were seen, nearly invisible to the eye.

That night they stayed in another corpse of trees, and spent the night watching in shifts, but they heard nothing sinister. The following evening they camped under a huge oak near the track, again keeping watch, again hearing nothing threatening. They lite no fire now, for Ailis would do nothing to arouse attention in the forest, and Rose slept uneasily, feeling unprotected. She was beginning to feel the forest's stillness unnerving, and her mood darkened.

The days passed in silence, each following their own thoughts. Rose thought she sensed a new distance in Thorn, a retreat from the intimacy that had grown, and after a time this grieved her. Instead she watched the forest, picking at a loose thread in the saddle, or thinking. Her mind kept returning to Tornac's death, this always brought on fresh tears, and how he had fallen from an unwarned shot. His death was unlawful, and had she been at her former standing those men would he trailed for their crimes and hung. It troubled her, though, that they had to flee from the scene so, leaving what was left of Tornac behind. His life would never be honored nor would he be laid to rest in the ways he should. It often seemed impossible to her that he had gone to the Void, and she'd think that somehow how there a chance he had survived though she knew he had not. She would shake herself then and look ahead, deeply disturbed by Tornac's death.

On their third day in the forest Rose watched in unconcealed displeasure as Ailis drew a line in the snow. She wanted to curse the woman for delaying their travel that day, but Ailis was adamant that there was something that needed to be done first.

When Ailis had awoken she was in a fury of words and actions, rushing this way and that, sorting through bag after bag before coming suddenly to a stop. Ailis then turned around and looked at Rose in the face before huffing a sigh and drawing out the red oak bow, received from Padern, and throwing it roughly onto the ground in front of Rose. She insisted that Rose picked it up. It was much heavier than she anticipated.

"Should we not put as much distance between us those men as possible?" Rose asked tapping her fingers against her arms, looking at the woman between narrowed eyes. "Should they find us-"

"They won't," interrupted Ailis, pulling out a long arrow. She held out the shaft to Rose. "Here."

"Honestly, Ailis," she protested. "Weren't you in a state of urgency yesterday?"

"I am in a state of urgency. That's why you must learn this." She poked Rose in the side with feathered tip. "Take it."

Rose looked at it, her stomach flipping in unhappy rumbles, and took the shaft from her. "I shan't be able to hit anything."

"It doesn't matter as long as you know how," she said with an indifferent shrug. Ailis then took a different arrow and gave a brief demonstration, her arrow finding the center of the target, which had been carved into a wide trucked tree, straightaway. She motioned for Rose to try.

Nervously, Rose picked back up the bow, where she dropped it, and stood in front of the oak, her toes touching the line Ailis had drawn. Her hands shook as she placed herself as Ailis had shown her to, and drew the string back, testing it.

"Rose," Ailis' voice cut through the air. "Your form needs work. Stand tall. Pull your arm back. Come now, you can pull harder than that."

She strained to draw the bow back until it slipped slightly from her fingers, forcing her to let it go with a grunt. The arrow did not sail so much as it whimpered in the air before scuffling across the ground and lodging itself into a mess of thorny roots and muddy snow. Rose looked at it in exasperation, and behind her she could hear Thorn's throaty laugh.

"Ailis," she said. "Can we not just go? This is pointless."

The woman smiled at her. "Humor me, and aim higher."

"I'd rather not," she mumbled.

She heard Ailis sigh. "Come now, Rose," she said. "I'm trying to teach you something important, the least you can do is work with me."

Rose rested the bow on her shoulder, and pulled the string slightly as she would to her viol. "What is that you are trying to teach me?"

"Focus," said Ailis moving to stand by Rose. "You focus on too many things at once. What I'm trying to teach you is the ability of focusing on one thing, with both body and mind." She scratched her hand. "Best receive the arrow, now."

Gritting her teeth, she did as she told. "I had thought," said Rose shaking the arrow clean of snow, "that focusing on many things at once is important."

"In sword play, yes," she said impatiently. "But I am not talking about swordcraft. I'll be frank with you, Rose, you're a Rider and more than that you're a woman living in a world of men. You have a power most do not, and this will scare them. Men have been taught that women are supposed to be meek things who listen to the very word of men as if it were law, but you can't be that. You have to be strong, stronger than you were in Urû'baen, because men will see you as something shameful, a traitor. You have to gain a single-mindedness to make these men that they cannot control you, so that you defy these rules you were taught and make your own destiny."

Rose started and narrowed her eyes. "A woman who seeks great power and wealth has to pay a great price," she said, carelessly tossing the bow to the ground. "I'm not quite sure I'm willing to pay that price."

"Then you will become what your mother was," said Ailis.

"My mother was a fool," Rose said darkly. "She was given a wheel of fortune that threw her so high, too high, and then she was thrown down. I'm not fool enough to think I can walk among men in belief that I know more than them. I've seen what happens to those who do, and I do not wish for the same to happen to me."

For a moment, Ailis was silent, looking as if she had been wounded and then she took a shaky breath. "Your mother was only a fool," she said gently, "because no one had taught how not to be. I'm trying to teach how not to make the same mistakes as her, please allow me to do so."

Rose took a calming breath and nodded, her sudden anger fading though not quite leaving, staying just under the surface of her skin. In hesitant movements she picked up the bow, and ran her fingers over its smooth surface. She struggled to get her arrow into position, neither she nor the arrow wanted to cooperate.

"Keep your elbow to your side," said Ailis, startling Rose enough that she released the arrow. It wobbled and stuck itself straight into the ground, quivering. Ailis sighed. "Don't be so nervous. No one will surprise us here. We're completely safe."

"You hardly know where here is," Rose grumbled under her breath, too softly for Ailis to hear her, and went to fetch to arrow. She pulled it roughly out of the ground and returned to the line, drawing back the arrow.

Ailis put her hands over Rose's to steady her uneasy hold. "That's better," she said. "When you strike do so without hesitation. See the target, the objective, and nothing else." Rose looked at the tree until it was blurry, and Ailis released her hold. "Listen to nothing but yourself, you breathing, the beating of your heart. See the center until there is no center, and then release the arrow."

She released the arrow. It flew with a sharp, whipping sound, striking the very bottom of the tree. It quivered, its feathered tip swaying, and then stilled.

"Better," said Ailis with a sigh. "Much better. I think we should continue our traveling now. Keep the arrow, you may need it."

Rose gave her a quizzical look and shrugged, reclaiming the arrow. She tugged at the suborn thing for a moment until it gave and hesitantly slid away from the tree. "I hardly know how to use it," she said, turning to Ailis.

Ailis smiled humoredly at her. "Yes, but now you an idea of how to use it, and that's better than not having one at all." She began to fasten her saddlebags shut. "If you needed to use the bow you could, and perhaps you will get lucky and hit your target. I hope you won't need that luck, though," said she sounding suddenly very tired. "We'll work in it."

Rose looked at the carving in the tree, and then with a sigh she turned away from it and packed her own bags. Tornac's old bags lay on the ground next to her. Neither of them knew what to do them; they didn't wish to go through them, or to throw any of his possessions out, and so they left them be, packing them onto Shadowless and then traveling with them. Rose knew that eventually she would have to sort them, to relieve Shadowless of some of their weight but at that moment this thought was too painful. She bit her lip, filling a stinging in her eyes and wiped at them. She was so very sick of crying, she had filled her tithe of tears and she felt as if she had no more to give.

Silently, she and Ailis packed up camp and saddled the horses. They continued forward, listening to the birdsong and at times Ailis' prattlings which always ended on a serious note, Thorn flew high above them keeping watch, as they weaved through the woodland because for now that was all they could do.

.

The following day they continued through the woodland, and at last Rose though she detected a subtle thinning of the trees and wondered if they neared its edges. Ailis thought this also. "Another day's ride, and I think, we'll be would these woods and at the northeast border of Leona Lake, a two weeks ride from Dras-Leona," she said. "We'll stay to the roads, and continue south and hopefully we shall have no more trouble." Rose said nothing and they rode on in companionable silence.

They made camp in another dingle that night, but this time there was an overhang and they made a fire. The fine weather held, and the night was even a little warm. After dawn the next day they continued, and around lunchtime Rose saw a light through the trees, and they reached the end of the track.

The forest ended quite suddenly, and Rose found blinking that they were looking over a land of rolling hills shaded in the distance by small buildings, humped blue in the eastern horizon. The landscape they rode through was lonely and bare, swept by strong winds blowing down from the distant mountains. They stuck to the path that led them through the woodland, and the going was slow because they had to pick their way, fear to lose the path altogether, and often the horses sank into mud past their fetlocks. Clouds of mosquitoes or gnats pestered them, and their discomfort increased as the sun got hotter. They pressed on for several hours, not stopping for dinner, and at last to Rose's relief, were past the bogs and back on solid ground.

When dusk began to fall they were still far from habitation, and they stopped by a stream for a very late meal, and let the horse graze and drank, soon Thorn joined them. There was no sound expect the sigh of the wind through the grass and the melancholy cries of plovers, and that night they talked little and quietly. Rose drew closer to fire.

"It feels desolate here," she said.

"Yes," said Ailis, "it does. We'll be among people again soon. I doubt we'll have any more trouble, but even so it'd be best if you took out that boy's cap and kept your hood up, if we meet with anyone, say nothing."

"I'm your mute son now, am I?" said Rose, amused. "Escorting you about? I must ask, what had happened to dear old da?"

"He has traveled to the Void," said Ailis, blinking in a tragic fashion. "Fell down the well. He was quite ungainly, that poor man. Bless his soul."

Rose smile slightly and shook her head at Ailis.

That night Rose slept restlessly, and it seemed in her dreams she heard sounds of hoofbeats far off in the night, searching for her, and all around were sinister shapes of men cloaked in red and gold. She woke, shivering, and looked straight up into the star-strewn heavens, where the waxing moon rode high in a vessel of clouds. Thorn lay nearby, humming lightly, and soon she slept again and dreamed no more.


	47. Short Story 20

_____________________________________________I do not own The Inheritance Cycle._  
This is a short story. I'll mention again that if you do not like them; don't read them but know that you will be missing out on a few things.  
Enjoy,

* * *

_Trials of the Pass_

The night had a chill to it that made Ailis dearly miss the warmth of the western coast. She huddled herself closer against the rockface of the granite overhang, pulling her blanket closer to her, the wool scratching at her skin. The smell of roasting meat and cooking wood and smoke filled the pocket of a cave. Ailis took another deep breath, enjoying the smell, relishing in the moment of peace.

She could hear Tornac as he stirred the stew and poured it into bowls, the clinking of the wooden spoon against the rim of the pot, the scraping of his boots as he turned on his toes. "Have I ever told you of the heavenly dancers?" said Tornac, referring to a tragic tale of two lovers and the legend of how they sung out to those in jeopardy.

"Yes," she heard Rose say, almost too softly to be heard. "A good number of times."

"I believe this night to one of them. I can hear it," he said, "like a strange music from the stars."

"There is no sound," Rose said, her voice louder than before, worriedly. "There is no music from the stars."

Sighing, she tiredly closed her eyes. It was getting very late, and they were to rise early that next morning. Ailis didn't looked forward to the long day they were about to spend in the pass of the Spine, the pass was bound to take them all day to get through and Ailis wanted to be there _now_.

"If there is," said Ailis, "then I have yet to hear it, Tornac, and I can't say that I'm not glad I have not."

"Because you cannot hear them does not mean they are not there," he said, handing out the bowls of stew. Ailis took one and balanced it in her lap.

"It is only a tale, Tornac. You shouldn't take it with such sincerity," said Rose seating herself to her former position, on the other side of the fire, a bowl held gingerly in her hands.

"There is a truth in tales," said Tornac, a hint of mischief in his voice. "Small truths nevertheless earnest ones. For that reason, some people fear fables and others yearn for them." Ailis snapped her eyes open and glared uselessly at him, knowing all too well where he was going with this conversation. "The truth is a lockless door, one can try to latch it shut but it will always open, somehow."

Tornac looked at Ailis, a warning in his eyes, and she stilled as a wave of an irritated resentment washed over her. Ailis wanted to snap at him, tell him that she was going to tell her, but instead she looked down, biting her tongue and setting her bowl aside as it nearly tipped over. Everyone was silent for a moment and the sounds of the night took volume, claiming that silence.

"This will be the last of the rain for a time. At least I hope so," said Ailis at least, deciding that it was best to change the discussion before she lose control of herself. "It would be nice to strike good weather for the next few days."

"Yes, it would." Tornac stirred as if he had just been awoken.

"Nicer still," said Ailis, wiggling her naked feet as they became warm from the furnace of a fire, "to go through the pass without anything bad happening."

Ailis glanced at Rose, who was watching Thorn as he tapped his tail against the ground, in a very bored fashion. It would be very nice indeed to have no more trouble for a time, and hopefully there would be, until Ailis told her. Ailis shifted and looked away, the guilt was eating away at her mind, and quite suddenly she felt as if she couldn't get enough air. She shook herself, surely Rose could handle what Ailis had to tell her, surely she was strong enough to.

An owl's sharp hooting startled Ailis out of her thoughts, and she picked back up her bowl and drank from it. It was a bland stew, almost tasteless, and Ailis could not have cared less for it but she finished it anyhow. Having finished the tasteless stew, Ailis leaned her weight completely back onto her hands, a sharp edged stone dug into the skin of her palm and she quickly shifted. The fire crackled and sputtered, throwing glowing sparks and shadows across the hallow. Thorn began to hum from the entrance way, his bulk blocking the scene outside, and Ailis relaxed as she listened to the vibrating sound.

Rose stood up very slowly as if someone was pulling her down, and yawned tiredly. "Which shift am I taking?"

"Second," said Tornac, "would be best. After your shift, or if you find you can no long remain awake, you're to wake me up."

Rose nodded, though she looked mildly annoyed. "Have a good night, then," said she shuffling to the back of the overhang. Ailis watched her silently as she unpacked her bedroll and crawled onto it, drawing her blankets over her form. Rose remained awake for a short time, looking at the roofing of stone, then turned away and closed her eyes.

Ailis waited a while, and then she sharpened her mind and sent it out over the land. At once she felt the chill of the night, although she had her legs spend out before the fire. It was as if she had stepped outside, yet she saw only the opposite wall. She felt the tiny lights of wildlife, and she listened for anything or anyone that could mean danger. She heard nothing, and so she tapped her conscious against Rose's, in boredom, finding the shadows of sleep. Contented, Ailis crossed her ankles and yawned.

"Is she asleep?" said Tornac, poking the fire with a long, crooked stick.

She started and looked at him cautiously. "She is. Is there a reason you decided to spurt out such nonsense? Or are you merely trying to irate me?"

"I'm an old man, Ailis," he said. "Spurting out nonsense is something I do, but I wasn't simply talking nonsense."

"I have yet to see it written in the Laws that you must say such things," grumbled Ailis. "And you should not, its upsetting."

He looked over the fire at her, his eyes shooting daggers. "Upsetting for you, or for Rose?" he said. "I know I took an oath to say nothing to her on the matter but it is well past time that you do. I can stand by knowing what I know, no longer."

"What matter?"

"You know very well what I am speaking of," he said sharply. "This is something that you can no longer hide from her, matters are become far too complex for your secrets."

Ailis flinched away as if he had slapped her. "Tornac-"

"I mean what I say. You are to tell her," he said, as if he were talking to small child. "Soon. No more excuses." He stood up and then excused himself for sleep.

Ailis made a face at him, as he lay down, and looked at the entrance of the overhang, Thorn was looking in at her, his large red eye glimmering dangerously. He looked about ready to tear apart the overhang, and Ailis almost laughed at the mental vision the thought gave her. "It is nothing that will put her into peril. My secrets will merely upset her, Thorn. I fear though that once she hears them, she will wish to have nothing more to do with me," she told the dragon. "Don't worry so, Tornac is merely being theatrical."

Thorn blinked at her in answer. He was very verbal, that dragon.

"I'm not being theatrical, Ailis," called out Tornac from the back of the burrow. "Tell the dragon the truth, that you're being a coward."

Ailis' face set into a grim line, as her anger began to rise. She fingered the stone that had offended her hand earlier and flung it forcibly into the fire. "A coward, I am not. And I wish for you not to call me such things."

"I had no doubt you'd say that." He shuffled and turned away from her. "Well, then, have a good night."

She scoffed, and turned away, looking sourly into the darkness of the night.

.

The light of morning, however veiled it was by drapes of dripping white fog, came all too soon. Ailis looked out into the fog. Had the haze not been so opaque she would see the dew dribbled hills, their greens dulled to greys, and in distance the fragmented mountains of the Spine ancient stacks of blue stone, but she did not. She blinked, swatting at the veiling mist, and squinted her eyes in attempt to see ahead of her, she saw only whiteness. This fog would slow them down, make the climb through the pass dodgy but there was no time for delay, they simply had to go through and fast.

As Ailis saw it, she had to get there, before_ he_ did something stupid. His face rose up in her mind's eye then, and a wave of longing pulled her under its depths, she fought for a moment against the rush but she was not able to break free. Her eyes prickled and she felt as if she were about to be ill, and suddenly she was unable to breath enough air.

"How long do you believe it will take us to travel through the pass?" said Rose sneaking up from behind her.

Ailis startled just slightly, cursing herself for not having her wits about her. "Not as long as it did before." She rubbed her eyes, clandestinely wiping away the tears.

"I would hope so," she said looking out into the murkiness, forlornly. "I don't wish to stay to Ludène again. The inn was nice enough, but the innkeeper's son was rather peculiar."

Ailis laughed, her mood lightened. "He wasn't peculiar, so much as he fancied you."

"That hardly describes the half of it." She looked as if she were choking. "Call for me when you're ready to leave, I'm going to see to Thorn."

Ailis watched then as Rose disappeared into the blanketing fog, towards a shape that Ailis believed to be Thorn. After a moment the blurry shape ascended into the sky, disappearing from sight completely, leaving the girl to stand alone in the white.

.

They passed Ludène late in the afternoon. Since no one wished to stop in the fortressed town, they passed around it all together, following a deer trail not far from the city. The high walls did not hide the sounds of the trading town, the chatting of men and women, and barking of dogs, and lows of cattle alike could be heard. At the gaps in the walls, the agape gates, the bright tunics of soldiers stood out vividly amongst the browns, and greys, and dull reds of commoners, their voices rising above the hassling crowd. Ailis looked over the crowd with discontent, there were so many of the armed men, masses of them as if they were readying themselves against attack. She uneasily hastened their pace, wishing then that they had not traveled this pass, there were others, that she should have perhaps considered.

.

Ailis reached out her mind, touching the lights of life, every so often, and it was only when they were well out of the reaches of Ludène that she felt no human life other than those of Rose and Tornac. Tiny creatures, like forest mice and squirrels and hares scattered across the ground, hidden by the fading density of foliage, while birds whistled rowdily from branching crowns of trees unseen, she felt but that was it.

She was pushing the pace harder than before, her sense of urgency increasing as the day waned. As evening came forth, the land changed, tipping dangerously down and they had to slow, picking their way carefully along the ever narrowing goat path the Empire called a road. Bristly stems and leafy budding bushes and woody thorns and creeping ivies and wide trunked trees tumbled up and down the tors of dirt and stone. From high above, they could often see Thorn, weaving his way across the rising grey sky, snaking around the peaks of the mountains.

Often times, one of them would lose their footing and stumble slightly, before regaining their former balance. This happened more often to Rose, who was far too busy admiring the grand sights of the rising mounds, something Ailis wished she could without feeling as if her head would roll off her shoulders. Ailis' heart nearly jumped from her throat each time Rose stumbled, and was watch as the girl scrambled to gain control of her footing, gripping effectively onto Eowyn's saddle. Ailis noticed that as the day wore on, Tornac too began to lose his balance more often, Ailis feared this was more out of his weariness- he was, as he said the night before, an old man. But then her neck would prickle with anger and she pointedly ignored his fatigue, pushing them forward.

Eventually the woodland thinned, its shining green and silver leaves dulling as they neared the end of the trail, and the road broadened, allowing them to, at last, mount the horses. They rode for a time, Ailis soon lost herself to daydreams; thinking again of what at stake, and the giddiness that left her breathless at the mere thought of seeing her beloved again. She thought of the silkiness of his hair and the gold light that reflected off of his eyes in fire light, the hypnotizing sound of his voice, and how he painted pictures with his hands. She thought of her child, and the wariness that seemed to set itself into her bones, the ways that she might be able to tell Rose what she needed to know. She thought also of her deceased husband, as she often did now, and the wrongs he did her and of the rights, of the wild smile that had lit up his face whenever she entered his rooms, the one she had mistaken for love. But her thoughts of the man were darkened by his mendaciousness and violence; she hated him, her soul burned with a blackness each time she thought of him, but in a way she loved him still, perhaps not out of love itself but because of the child they had shared. Slowly, Ailis' thoughts swirled around her head, like the buzzing of a fly, until she could take them no longer.

She reached out her mind, to distract her, and many lights erupted into her mind. Ailis yanked on Lanorgrim's reigns, in panic, until he stopped- Eowyn nearly running into his rump. The mare squealed in protect, and Ailis looked around wildly, stumbling over her thoughts as they rampaged her mind, churning it into a confusing jumble of nothing. For the life of her, she could not remember how to cast a shield around them, and when she did it was too late.

For when the attack came, it came without warning.

There was a whirling sound, that sent a shiver down her spine, rocking her enough that she remembered the words at last but could not say them, and then a breeze blew across the path scattering leaves and redirecting the arrow. Ailis turned in unhidden dismay as the arrow, meant as a warning shot, tore through his flesh causing Tornac to shudder violent from the impact. The arrow passed through his chest and back, just below his collarbone, a killing blow. A scream racked the air as Shadowless reared back in nervousness, his hooves kicking the air. From above, another archer, hidden amongst the columns of stone, released a blot in equal panic as those below him, and this one hit Shadowless flank. The horse screamed and buckled and for a moment Tornac clung desperately to the saddle-horn before he fell to the ground.

Ailis felt her chest consist, and she quickly reached out her mind to him. A high scream tore through the air, and Ailis was ripped out of her work, she fumbled to reach out to him, and at the same time create a shield in case any more archers decided to loosen their arrows. The moment her mind touched Tornac, she knew would not be able to heal him as she hoped, it would far too much time. . There was no choice, it was that or leave the man to suffer at the hands of the Empire before death took him, and Ailis knew Rose would not leave unless Tornac was died or healed, the former would end up with them being taken by the King's men. His pain became hers as she drew on his life source, his death felt like hers. Tornac's death was quick, much quicker than it would be otherwise, and his life's energy was casted into a strong shield that surrounded them in safety.

During the moments of him passing into the Void and him being shot, Rose had dismounted from her horse was standing still, torn between running to him and bolting for her life, shifting her weight form foot-to-foot. Ailis touched Rose's mind. _Rose you have to move this instant, _she said, suppressing a shudder. Rose didn't move, frozen still in the tragedy, and Ailis struck her with her mind, jolting her out of the state. _Now!_ In the end, Rose shook her head and ran as arrows rain down from the sky, bouncing harmlessly off the shield Ailis had created, into her horse.

At once, Ailis urged Lanorgrim forth, reaching her mind to Shadowless and with a struggle she calmed the panic horse. She didn't know why she did this, out of guilt perhaps, because she hadn't healed Tornac, she was unsure and at the moment she didn't wish to think of it. Shadowless, coxed into following them and not to run off in fright, trailed behind Eowyn as they rounded the corner at a neck breaking speed.

It was not long, however, before Ailis felt the captain's mind choose to chase after them, a shot had killed by an unlawful nature and he was determined to set things to their rights. Ailis lashed out at him in her fury, and urged Lanorgrim to go fast still. The captain, stunned but otherwise unfazed, and another of his men mounted their horses in pursuit.

"Halt!" the captain said, his voice coarse with harshness. "Under the Order of the Laws of the Crown you are commanded to halt!"

Ailis turned and looked behind her. Rose had dared to glance behind her as well, and was glancing at the captain with a look of intense disbelief. She reached her mind to Rose and touched it lightly, not wanted to know what the girl was feeling. _Don't stop,_ she commanded turning away as Lanorgrim scuffled around a very sharp bend, _whatever you do. Do not stop. _The shield slipped and Ailis hadn't the energy to create a new one, she could only hope that the men would shoot at them no more.

The road seemed then to continue eternally, each turn rounding into another, leafless tree after leafless tree was passed, and the spiking peaks of the mountain had never seemed more like a fortress. Lanorgrim sped ever more from her touch, his powerful muscles stretching beneath her, his dark mane whipping through the air, tired though he was his head never dipped in tiredness.

Finally the road deepened and widened and the flatlands that surrounded the mountains came into view. The men pursuing them never distanced, Ailis noticed with dismay, the gap between them remaining the same. Within moments a forest came into view, and she was struck by a sudden idea. Ailis turned Lanorgrim sharply towards it, his hooves slipping, and made a silent prayer that Rose would keep up, it would do them no good to loss each other now.

Ailis leaned down into the saddle, as Lanorgrim plunged into the forest following each of her commands as she turned him randomly about. She heard a squeal, and reached out her mind to Rose to insure that she was not harmed, she was not. Ailis turned them this and that, choosing the direction by mere whim until they came across a stream. She had Lanorgrim turn down the hill and into the stream, thankfully it was not deep, reaching only to the horse's fetlocks. As she thought it would, the stream covered all noise they made. She slowed Lanorgrim to a very slow trot, allowing him to cool down in the icy waters. Ailis glanced behind her at Rose and Shadowless, and then continued for a distance before she saw a grouping of trees with intertwining branches on the opposite back. She pushed for Lanorgrim to climb up the hill, and finding that it was sleek with muck, she dismounted and led him up into the grove, aware of Rose following her every move.

The moment they entered the encirclement of trees, Rose sunk to the ground as if she could no longer stand, she was shaking violently and tear fell unnoticed down her face. Ailis watched for a moment as she looked up at the horses, seeing them but not truly looking at them, then she closed her eyes and turned away. She felt suddenly very ill, and she leaned against Lanorgrim who snorted unhappily.

Somewhere in the woodlands, a squirrel chattered and scurried up a tree. A light breeze picked up, and Ailis listened. She could hear nothing of the soldiers, she noted with little relief. Ailis rubbed Lanorgrim damp neck affectionately. He was such a fateful and proud beast.

"I think we have thrown them off out trail, for the moment," she said musingly, glancing at Rose. "But I have no idea where we are."

She was answered by a whimper, something Rose was no doubtingly trying to hide, and a very slow nod. Ailis closed her eyes, as grief-that was not her own- and guilt-that was- rose into her chest, and tears burned her eyes. She should have tried to heal Tornac. She felt ill again as she bent down and took Rose's hands in hers, they were warm and clammy. "Come here," she said, pulling the girl to her chest, unsure of whether or not she wanted the comfort. Rose did, or she didn't care enough not to, and Ailis held her for a time, it was like holding a child. As she cried in violent shudders, Ailis run her fingers through her hair, loosening the knots and tangles, comforting Rose as well as herself. She kept her thoughts empty as they felt wrung out,, until her mind began to heal and wander.

This was the disaster Tornac had warning her against when they first had first she had been so sure and arrogant of her power, something she thought she had learned long ago not to be. It was like the trials of the last years had never happened, and she again that young conceited girl, full her pride with very little thought towards others, only she had grown from that until she wasn't her anymore.

Tornac's death was her fault. The full bitterness of her self-accusation made her choke on tears, something caught her throat, and she fought back a retch in her stomach. All her resentments and augments with the man seemed so very trivial now.

Suddenly her thoughts went to Rose, who at the moment seemed so broken as she slowly untangled herself from Ailis and stood, looking over the forest, panting. She staggered to the edge of the border of trees, leaning on a thick branch. "I'm going to get some wood for a fire," she said almost too softly for Ailis to hear.

Ailis called after her, but she didn't seem to hear. She was worried about Rose, her running off into the forest alone, she always seemed to run straight into trouble. For once Ailis hoped she wouldn't, neither of them had their wits about them, or their thoughts in order, any more trouble would lead to something worse than disaster.

Ailis wiped at her tears and pushed aside her guilt impatiently, there would be plenty time for that later, for now she had to focus on getting her and Rose to Dras-Leona alive. Standing, she became certain that she would have to tell Rose before they reached the city, or else everything she had worked to build would fall apart. She needed also to speak with Thorn, to ask him not to say anything about what he had heard, the problems was getting the dragon to speak to her.

She was sure that Rose wouldn't return with enough firewood, not tonight, and so did what she always did when upset, she kept herself busy. She tended to the horses, healing the seeping gash on Shadowless, and walked into the woods to collect firewood, she built up a fire, and boiled water from the stream to make a stew, and when Thorn somehow found the encampment, she turned to him words on her lip but unsure of what to say- a problem that seemed to plague her lately.

* * *

_A/N: The only thing worse than writing Tornac's death is doing it twice. I wrote this before I wrote the actual chapter, and I had to think about it before I posted it (and revise it). Don't freak about not knowing what Ailis and Tornac(mainly Ailis) were going on about, you'll find out in the next chapter or the one after. If you really want to know read between the lines of the 90% of the chapters, you'll find out._


	48. Chapter 28

_________________I do not own the Inheritance Cycle._  
Read, please.  
You all have my brother to thank that your reading this chapter, as is, at all. Somehow, don't ask how, the first version I wrote of this was deleted- I searched everywhere for it. (A week's worth of work!) And so the version your reading was written in less than 24 hours.  
I have said this before and I will say it again: I have had everything planned in this story before I wrote it- I'm following an outline I wrote months ago.  
With that said, enjoy,

* * *

**The Flatlands of Leona Lake**

That next day they followed the path east, keeping the horses at a brisk trot, through the reedy flatlands. Towards the middle of the afternoon they entered a small unwalled town named Corish, and they rode through it. The narrow unpaved streets stank of middens and their gutters were full of rubbish, vegetable peelings, eggshells, and rotting refuse, and the people watched them pass with distrustful eyes. It was not, thought Rose looking at the pocketed buildings, a particularly pleasant place. Ailis kept a good hold on Shadowless' reigns as she led Rose through the city as if she were afraid a someone might try to come and take him, her face set in a grim mask. In little under half an hour, the buildings ended and the road split in two. "This is the main road to Dras-Leona. Here we can make up some lost time," said Ailis, turning her saddle. Lanorgrim neighed and pawed at the ground, and then leapt forward at gallop. It seemed as if he were as eager as his rider to get to Dras-Leona.

They rode quickly, not stopping until they could hear the rushing waters of the Toark River before them, and the sound of the horse's hoofbeats changed. Before them they saw a broad stone bridge, which had now fallen into disrepair. At the highest point of its span was carved an image of a great bear on the rocks of a gushing cascade, its falling waters rippling off into stone waves down the wide arch; but the bear had almost crumbled out of recognition and the ripples of water was mere runnels in the stone. Despite this the bridge was study, and they crossed safely to the other side and followed the road up along the other side of the valley, and at last they slowed to a trot.

To the west of them the mountains sat heavily on the horizon, and to the east Rose would see the purplish hills of the downs in the distance, but all around them the land was as flat as a floodplain. The Toark River ran towards the mountains, and it looked to Rose as sullen as the landscape, with black reeds sticking out of its churning surface. There were few trees, and those she saw stood solitary, bent by a previous prevailing wind. The land was rich and mucky, fading mounds of snow glittering before they were drowning in sticky mire.

They continued through dismal countryside for the week, traveling as swiftly as they could all day and keeping watch at night. And Rose watched as the river widened and was replaced by a large, gleaming, clear lake, each cloud and bird in the sky reflecting in its mirroring waters, disputed only by an occasional ripple. The bright weather held; Rose's eyes began to ache from the constant glare, and she was tired of the flatlands. They stretched ahead always, pass lone farmhouse and walled town and small rises of stone and blinding white snow- grim, unrelenting, mercilessly there. Despite her boredom, she was thankful for the sunshine, all the same, they had managed to travel a great deal and would be, according to Ailis, halfway through the valley in a couple of days.

As they traveled a contrast between Ailis and Rose seemed wedge itself in their relationship, and soon became a constant thing. They traveled as they always did, out of habit, and superficially things seemed as they always had; they joked, and talked in the evenings, although they did not bring out their swords Ailis taught Rose how to use the bow better, and she developed some skill with it although the winds coming off the lake made it tricky to use. But even the brief resumption of Ailis' teaching role could not drive away the shadow that now lay between them, the more powerful because it remained unspoken.

Rose didn't know how this happened. She still trusted Ailis as she always had, but she found that she was less able to speak with her, and the harder it became to find a way to return their former friendship. Ailis who was reserved at the best of times, was now mostly silent. Rose resented this, feeling that it was somehow related to Tornac and his death, and at the same time feeling that her silence was being used as a weapon against her.

At noon the fourth day after crossing the Toark, they had paused for their midday meal, near an half burned down hut, its charred wood reaching into the sky like broken fingers. It was unusual for them to eat far off of the road so that Thorn could join them in their brief rest, and he usually did not do so, not wanting to take the time to do so. That afternoon was no different, the dragon swept down, nevertheless, from the sky in wide, swirling circles causing Rose to shudder in nervousness as a pair of travelers watched him in very far distance. She mindtouched with Thorn, and felt a tendril of unease from him._Thorn,_ she said, _I believe that we are too close to the road for you to join us. Keep to the skies, people are taking notice._

Thorn ignored her and landed anyhow. He swung around and looked at her with one of large, red eye, his wings remaining unfolded. _There is something you must see_, he said.

_Can you not show me from where we are?_ Rose took a bite out of a stale biscuit.

_You need to see for yourself._ He bashed his tail loudly against the ground, scattering a number of stone from the force. _I need you to see it._

"Rose," Ailis said, looking up at the road, "What does he want?"

"He wishes to show me something, yet he will not say what." Rose looked at him sullenly, as he walloped the ground with his tail again. "It'd be less in convent if he did."

Ailis paled slightly, but nodded. "If that is all, then, please, do go with him," she said. "You know how to find me. Be quick about it, we don't have much time."

"Much time until what, exactly?" Rose said, turning to scowl at the woman. "I wish you would tell me so that Thorn and I could perhaps assist you a little more in this hurried search of yours."

Ailis looked at her with a mask-like blankness. "Nothing you need to worry about," she said, waving them away. "Now off you go."

Rose sighed and climbed onto Thorn. _Whatever it is that you wish to show me, _she said, grasping ahold of the nearest spike that ran along his back, _it best be important._

_It is._ Thorn crutched down the ground and jumped, pumping his wings powerfully until they were in the sky. The land lay below then, like a giant piece of patchwork, each home a stitching of thread, and Rose looked over it for a moment before closing her eyes, fighting off a sudden feeling of sickness. The scales of Thorn's bulk bit into her legs, making her regret the lack of barrier between them, and she tried to swing her legs out just a bit but this unbalanced her and she didn't do it again. Beneath her, she could feel the power of Thorn, each smooth movement of muscle and pounding of his wings as they hit the air. It made her breathless.

Though Rose was not paying mind to Thorn's directions, he was following a winding stream that led them away from the road to a small dwelling of trees, far from any human claim, where there the river widened to a pool. Thorn landed there, near that pool and for a time he looked around, searching for something. _There,_ he said lowing himself to the ground. _Look._

Rose opened her eyes and looked around at the small grouping of trees encircling them, the cold, clear water bubbling over small, flat stones, and in the distance a shepherd's hut sat squawky on a hill with white points of sheep milling around it. _What should I be seeing?_

Thorn grumbled deeply, and shook himself, exiling her from his back. _Look,_ he said, pointing at the ground with his snout.

Looking at him unhappily, Rose stood and walked around him. On the ground was an indentation, and for a moment she could only stare then she started with shock and glanced at Thorn. _It's belongs to a dragon, _she said_._ She was very sure of it. The print looked very much like Thorn's with the exception that it was trimmer, the carvings from the claws willowier, and it was not so deep as his as if the creature were lighter. _This is what you wished for me see, isn't it?_

_Yes,_ he said doubtfully. _It may be a ploy, something to lure us._

_It may as well be from something akin to dragon, _she said. _There are such things, I believe. _

Thorn grumbled unhappily. _I wouldn't know._

Rose looked at the print uncertainly for a moment in puzzlement, and then looked at Thorn. _Let's go, shall we?_she said. _We shan't get much done merely standing here, looking at it._

Thorn said nothing, keeping his thoughts to himself and crouched down, allowing her to climb onto his back. He soon took the skies, and Rose once again shut her eyes as cold blasts of wind burned them.

.

The following day, they kept again to the road, stopping only once to the horses to rest and for them to have a quick meal. They now began to pass people; farmers headed to markets pulling wagons of dried produce pulled by tired looking ponies with rough hair and staring ribs, and the occasional oxen; two or three times there was a woman walking with a heavy basket strapped to her back, out of which poked heads of chickens, squawking in protest, or holding small, grizzling children that pulled at their skirts.

They traveled as fast as before, and Rose began to now feel the loss of Ailis' company; the breach that had been there before had now opened up between them, and the silence was almost complete. They spoke only at absolute need, and then it was as brief as possible, their silence soon becoming an impenetrable wall. The breach even extended to the horses, who bickered uncharacteristically; Lanorgrim once bit Shadowless on the flank and was kicked in the belly for the was only enough to wind him, to Rose's relief, but the women tended to the horses separately. Rose was privately worried about the black horse, whose coat had begun to loss its shine, but she could see very little she could do about it. Rose's only company was Thorn who knew her mood and unhappiness, and would lie close at night, and talk with her during the day, but it only slightly eased the ache within her. She felt somehow exiled from humankind.

Their ride was uneventful, expect of the city of Dras-Leona grew closer and Thorn's company become infrequent as more and more people began to fill the roads, and the days grew warmer and the land hillier. The weather held, each day drawing into clear skies, and a warming sun which glowed in cloudless sky of unending blue. If the weather remained this way, Ailis reckoned that it would take them a week to ride the city.

.

"There is something we need to speak about," Ailis said, one night after they had set up camp. The sun threw fragment of red ripples into the sky, and there were no clouds at all, only tiny shadows moving over the earth.

Rose looked up in surprise, from cutting meat of two woodcocks. "About what," she said blowing a brown and grey feather out her face, "do we need to speak of?'

"Rose," she said, folding up the map as if she were gathering her thoughts. "By now I should have told you this, though it is something you should have grown up knowing. I have never sought to hide it from you, and Tornac dearly wished for you to know, I want you to know this, that he was sworn to not tell you. It's a hard thing to speak of, this, and I don't have the words for it."

Rose continued to stare at her, waiting for her to speak, blowing again at the feather that seemed to make a permanent home in her hair. "What are you talking about?"

"You do recall what I had asked of you before we set out of Urû'baen, don't you?" Rose nodded in confusion. "I ask it of you again, not to think of me with abhor until you know the whole truth. You will try to do this, won't you?"

Looking at her warily, Rose nodded, feeling suddenly very warm. She had move unconsciously away from Ailis, and now sat with the bloodied knife gripped firmly in her hand. "What is it, then?"

Ailis looked up at her with thinning lips, and for a moment her eyes stilled on the knife. "Put the knife down," she said, paling as Rose crudely stuck it into the chest of one of the lifeless birds. "I'm sure the bird wouldn't thank you for that."

Rose shrugged. "It is dead. You might find that it cannot thank me for anything."

Ailis smiled, but it looked more like a wince. "Of course not, how silly I am to think otherwise," she said dryly, then looked at the creases in the folded map with blink interest.

There was a short silence, and Rose shifted on the ground. "Ailis," she said, shaking the woman. "What were you saying? What should I have known?"

The look Ailis gave her made her look as if she were in pain. "I swear to you, Rose, on all that I hold dear that I'm speaking only the truth. I know I have neglected teaching you the Ancient Language, for my own reasons, and so my words mean very little but know they are true." She stopped and an uncomfortable silence grew before them.

Rose sat mutely before her, as an overwhelming suspicion and fear beginning to rise.

Finally Ailis shook herself and stood suddenly as if she were anxious. "When I came to Urû'baen it hadn't been my intention to merely liberate the dragon eggs from Galbatorix, it would have insanity if it was. My focus had been you, it was always you. It was only by some rare chance that I was able to take the eggs as well."

Rose stopped listening and sank into a black reverie. What interest was she to Ailis? Had she been rescued from the capital merely to be thrown at the Varden as a trophy, until she was no longer useful? If so she was trapped, she had no place else to go, she hadn't the skills to make it in the wild with only Thorn, and she certainly did not wish to return the capital.

"Rose." She startled at the use of her name. "You've hardly heard a word I've said, haven't you? For the best I suppose, I'm hardly making sense," said Ailis. "I'll be blunt because I suppose there is no better way to say it. My birth name is not 'Ailis,' she is someone I spent many years to fabricate until I became her. My late husband had not murdered my child though I spent many years believing that he had. Rose? Please listen, this is important."

"Important for who?" Rose said, shifting away. "You may keep your secrets. I do not wish to hear them."

"You want to hear what I have to say, I know you do," the woman said. "When you don't pay attention, your face tells those around you all they need to know."

Rose's eyes hardened and she looked away. "What is it, then?" she said thickly. "If you believe that I want to know, then, please, just me without any more mysteries."

The blood drained out of the woman's face, and her hand fell nervously to her side. For a few seconds she was speechless. Then she gazed intently into Rose's eyes and spoke softly. "I was given the name Selena at birth," she said looking ill. "You are the child I had believed to have died by her father's hand, but it was not so. I should have told you long ago, I've tried to, but I have been remiss. For that, I apologize." Beneath the bitterness in her voice, Rose heard the anguish of an undimmed grief. For a second, as if she were a burning glass, the woman's emotions flashed through her. Then the woman looked at Rose through wet eyelashes with a strange shyness, and studied her for a moment, only to turn away disgruntled when Rose said or did nothing.

For a long time Rose couldn't talk, even if she wanted to, nor could she think, her mind completely blink. Then as the shock receded, she stood up and walked away into the night, the woodcocks forgotten. Ailis, or Selena, whoever she was, called after her, but Rose ignored the calls, and continued for a time in useless wandering until she reached Leona Lake. She stared out at its surface for a time, looking at the stars in the reflection of the sky, until she felt Thorn mindtouch her. As her mind mended with his, her thoughts returned with vengeance, but neither of them said anything.

Rose sighed, pulling the feather from the tangles of her hair, and looked back at the encampment. The glowing sparks from the fire, a frail light in the empty blackness, flared up briefly filling the darkness of the world.


	49. Short Story 21

_____________________________________________I do not own The Inheritance Cycle.  
I've had this written for ages, and I've wanted to posted since the moment I finished it.  
Enjoy,_

* * *

_Heritage_

"All of it is my fault," Selena said. Her words were muffed as she had her head buried against his shoulder. "If I hadn't left her…" She trailed off unable to continue.

Brom gently rubbed her back. He had felt the same emotions before. Just like losing Saphira had been his worst nightmare, he knew that she was living her worst nightmare as well. Knowing that her daughter had been murdered by her late husband was ripping her apart from the inside. The only peace that she had- that they had- was that Morzan was dead.

Brom clearly remembered killing the Forsworn, his blood as it splattered onto his blade, his mismatched eyes as they faded of life and became unseeing, glass-like. He was supposed to feel the contentment of vengeance but he had felt nothing at all as he picked up the red blade from off the street and drove it into Morzan's chest. Morzan's strange eyes had widened as the blade pieced him, he was already dying but Brom wanted to ensure that he would never breathe another breath. The Forsworn muttered something softly and blood had bubbled from his mouth, staining his lips. Then he fixed his gaze on Brom, and stared at him with his laughing eyes. "Don't you see it?" he had said, between spats of blood. "You've killed, I've killed. We're the same, you and me. Don't forget that." With that Morzan, Forsworn Rider of the slain nameless dragon, son of Maurgh, had died, and leaving his last words to haunt Brom as he walked away down the streets of Gil'ead without a single glance behind him.

Brom had left the city in haste and rode hard to the castle that once belonged to Morzan, where he found a few servants trapped inside bond to never leave. He had questioned the servants but none had heard from Selena for many months, and so Brom left and by some profound miracle crossed paths with her only hours ago. She had been in a bad way but after he healed her, which took a long time and much of his energy, she told of a pair of bandits who caught her by surprise, how she had already been weakened and where she had been these past months. Most important of all, she had told him of their son and how he was a father.

He took in a broken breath. "It wouldn't have made a difference," Brom said. "It's likely she'd still be died, and our son as well." He paused, and looked down at her curiously. "What's his name? You haven't told me."

She sighed and he could feel a breath of air as it passed his skin, raising the hairs on the back of his neck. "Eragon," she said, raising her arms and clasping them tightly around his neck. "His name is Eragon."

"'Eragon'," he repeated. "Eragon was the first Dragon Rider."

"I know. I had to give him something of his heritage, as he'll grow up believing Marian and Garrow are his parents, and know nothing of us." She swallowed. "That is my final wish for him, to grow up happy and safe, to get married to some nice maiden and have babies of his own, and grow old with many grandchildren to terrorize his farm. But he cannot do that if we raised him," she said shifting herself closer into his embrace. "You and I, we find danger in safest places." Selena sniffled, but she did not weep. She would not, not now when the emotions were still so fresh, but despite the hard-heartening lessons of her past, he felt the wetness of tears through his tunic. "I didn't want to leave him but I had to. He was so tiny, Brom. Oh, so tiny and helpless and I knew that I had to protect him. You should have had a say in his raising. I shouldn't have taken that from you."

She pulled away and looked at him. Her eyes were reddened and puffy from her tears, and there were dark half circles under them. Her face was paled and blotched with stains of red, and her lip was bleeding from where she bit it. Still, she was the most beautiful person he had ever known. Soft skin touched lightly by the spring sun, nimble shoulders hardened with wiry muscle, narrow waist and curved hips, round face with high cheekbones and flashing eyes. He pulled his eyes away from her, and swallowed roughly.

He knew she had done their son right, but he couldn't help but wish that they could be the ones to raise him. He ground his teeth together. His head was still spinning with the news that he was a father though he may not know his boy, the information was nonetheless hard to imagine. Neither of them were fit to bring up a child but, he knew, that they should be the ones the raise their son, Eragon. _And Selena's girl_, Brom thought after a moment,_ we should be to see her into adulthood as well, alas, some things are not met to be. _Morzan had found a way take even more from them- Brom and Selena. Now that Morzan was died from this world, Brom began to doubt that the damage the dead Rider had carved into the world would ever end_._


	50. Side Story 22

_________________________________________________I do not own The Inheritance Cycle._  
This is something different.  
Enjoy,

* * *

_Killing Stones_

He watched as the long-tailed turkey treaded behind a log, and with a swear he struggled to notch his arrow. The turkey's small head bobbed out from behind the wood and disappeared teasingly, almost as if it knew what it was doing. He pressed his lips firmly together, he still couldn't get the arrow notched. Without warning the turkey guzzled and shot out from behind the log. He swore again, this time louder, his words sharp with the harshness of frustration, and he struggled with his bow. The bow didn't give and he tossed it aside, picking up instead a small round stone which he looked at doubtfully.

"_Stenr llydn flauga uninad fethrblaka!"_ he said loudly, reaching deep inside his mind for that strange place, scaring the turkey into a scampering dash away from him, its head bobbling. For a moment he felt as if were about to be ill, and then the stone shot out of his hand, faster than any arrow, and dug into thin boney skull of the long-feathered bird. The turkey wobbled, and fell to the ground mid-step.

Standing up slowly, his jaw gaping in amazement, Eragon stumbled forward as his head wavered and spun, and he caught himself on the trunk of a tree. As soon as his head stilled, he crept towards it, pulling a cord of rope from his waist band. For a moment Eragon studied the turkey with a gray sort of satisfaction, poked it with his bow, and then, deciding that it was as dead as it would ever get, he tied the rope around both of its roughly skinned legs and pulled it through the snow back to the camp. He looked behind him every few moments, seeing if blood trail behind him, and found that very little did.

When he reached the encampment, Brom looked up, sliver flacks of snow spotting his beard. "Figured it out did you, boy?" the old man said. It seemed to Eragon almost as if he were laughing at him.

He nodded. "Yes."

"You took your time," Brom grumbled, setting aside the bowl in his hand. He took one last look as the contents inside it, and passed his hand over it with a cough. "Are you going to continue standing there or are you going to help fix supper?"

Eragon opened his mouth to answer and Snowfire snorted from somewhere behind him, his breath churning white in the air. "Isn't that what's in the bowl?"

"No," said Brom his tone curt, his eyes flashing warningly. "Now, hang that bird up or it will take even longer to cook."

"What were you doing with the bowl, then?" He came forward, the snow crunching under his boots, and he could feel its cold though the fur lining. He needed thicker boots soon or his toes might fall off from the cold.

"Must you question everything?" Brom retorted with a question of his own, his lips disappearing into the bush of his beard. He paused for a moment, as Eragon tossed the rope over a low branch of a nearby tree. "If you must know," he said, "I was melting the snow, its too cold for the streams to flow and we haven't come close to a river yet."

Eragon looked humoredly at Saphira, who was resting on the ground jadedly watching the rainbows of blue reflect off her scales and into the sparkling snow. _Melting snow with his gaze?_ he said to her. _For some strange reason I have a hard time believing that._

_You shouldn't. _She looked up, her big purple-blue head shifting, throwing patches of blue over the wooded lands. She blinked. _You just killed a bird with a flying stone. He might have been melting snow with his gaze. You just don't know._

_You're very funny._

Saphira laughed in her way, and turned to look over the rise, the talons of her claws twitching.

Eragon shook his head at her, and heaved on the rope until the bird was hanging upside down. He then roped the cord around the trunk of the tree and tied it off. Pulling his hunting knife out its sleeve, he slashed deeply into the swaying bird's neck near its beak, allowing its crimson blood to drip on the snow below. Where the blood dripped, it steamed and sizzled, burrowing its way to the dead grassy ground below, melting the snow around it as it went.

Eragon yanked a little on the head of the bird, and then grabbed a hand full of snow and scrubbed at his hands to clean them before walking away. He sat down, very near the fire and extended his hands out, rubbed them together, willing them to warm. He pulled at his hair, it was getting too long from all the traveling they've done. Then he shook himself and closed his eyes and rested for a time in the peaceful silence.

…

…

The black caped man stood tall upon the pile of rubble, overlooking the horrible scene before them. He laughed, it was an abysmal sound that made the boy laying nearby look away as shivers ran down his spine. He took a painful breath, the cut near his belly moved painfully, feeling as if he were not getting any air.

Casually and contemptuously, the man lifted his hand and spoke, and boy gasped; if felt as serpents were biting his innards. He clenched himself in sudden agony, and screamed. Then the man came towards him, and looked down., toeing him with his crimsoned stained boot The boy met his black eyes, like soulless pits they were, and the man nudged him again this time harder. "Such a pity," the man said, shaking his head. "I had such hopes for you, Conon." The man grasped the boy's arm painfully, and lifted him over the edge of the cliff. "Such hopes," the man said again, and then the man dropped the boy. The boy fell, tumbling through the air, and the man's laugh resounded in his head, the last thing he heard, before he fell onto a pile of spiraled rocks.

He hadn't even had the time to scream.

…

…

Something wet brushed up against her hand and she startled, looking down at the fat nosed dog. It licked her hand again and she yanked it away from him, before bending down and rubbing the gristly fur on its head. The dog snorted happily at her and pulled its head away. Then as it walked away Selena rolled her eyes and dripped her feet into water, tucking the skirts of her dress in a leather waist-band. The water was very cool, and it was more than relieving after the long walk it took her to get there.

The water spread out before Selena like jade-green silk, she saw once when the traders were in town, and its waters felt just as soft. The rocks were slick with slime beneath her toes, and she nearly slipped as she waded in. Behind her she heard her brother's laughter, and she turned unsure of what he was laughing at.

Garrow and his friend were talking, and as far as she could tell something humorous had been said. Her brother's friend caught her looking and he looked over her roguishly. His gaze made feel quite suddenly very ill and she looking focusing, instead on slowly working her way into the water; its coolness against the damp heat of her skin, the light breeze that played into her loose hair, the smoothness of the rocks beneath her toes.

"Selena!" Garrow called.

She turned and looked at him with wide eyes, his brown hair was a mess filled with small sticks and broken leaves from the low trail through the forest that they took, and there was asmall cut on his cheek. "Yes, brother?"

"Be careful," he said, in a warning tone, "of the drop off. I don't want to carry you all the way home again, especially when you shouldn't be here with us."

She huffed at him in annoyance. "I know how to swim now, Garrow," Selena said flicking her hair from her face. "That was two years ago. I'll be alright this time."

He huffed. "If you say so," Garrow said sounding very unhappy.

The dog barked at something, startling Selena nearly out of her wits, and ran off into the woods. Garrow and his friend turned and stared at it dumbly for a quick second. "No!" Elis shouted at the dog, chasing after it. "Nosewise, you get back here, you dumb thing!" A round of barking sounded again, and after a moment Elis returned, dragging the dog behind him. "No, Nosewise," he scolded it. "No! Stay! Stay! There, stay, there. Stupid dog."

Selena heard Garrow laugh. "I told you we should have left him at your farm."

"Yeh, Yeh," Elis said. "Say what you will. But I'm telling you if that bear comes again, Nosewise will let us know."

Selena turned around, and looked at them. "What bear?" she said, her voice high. "You said nothing about a bear."

"Don't tell Father," growled Garrow. "It's nothing."

"If its nothing, then why don't you want me to tell Father?" She raised her eyebrows questioningly at him.

He glowered at her. "I said it's nothing."

"Come on, Garrow," she pleaded. "Please tell me."

Elis looked between them annoyed. "I should have left the dog," he said lowly, "and you should have left your sister."

Selena huffed at them. "I was only asking," she said feeling left out, she turned away. She could feel the bottom of her dress, which had fallen from its home in her waist band, dance around her ankles. "Please, do forgive me."

"Honestly, Selena?" Garrow said sounding annoyed, his voice was beginning to crack with his coming age. "We only think that it was a bear, we heard a growl but we didn't see it. There now you know. Don't be such a brat."

"I'm not a brat!" She dove under the water, not wanting to listen to him anymore. She swam around for a moment, fighting the tangle of her skirt, feeling her hair swish around her head, and then wet up for air. She wiped the water from her eyes and looked up at the stone overhang above her, Garrow looked down at her. "Are you two going to swim or not?"

"I'm coming," her brother said. "You're so impatient."

She swam away from him in answer. "You're not in yet!"

There was a splash that washed over her, and Garrow's head bobbed out of the water and smiled smugly at her, there were still leaves stuck in his hair. He blew a mouthful of water into the lake, and she splashed at him. He laughed at her, and kicked water into her face as he swam away. "I'm in," he laughed. "Now you need to stop complaining."

Selena looked at him unhappily.

"Aye, Garrow," called out Elis backing away from bed of stone towards the forest, "watch this." He came back at a fast run, and jumped off the rock but something was wrong with the way he did so.

Selena watched, in horror, as he slipped back and his head bounced off the stone. There was a horrible cracking sound and his face went blink, and slowly, like a strange and horrible nightmare, he tumbled into the soft waters below. The green enveloped him as he sunk and then rose, his head dangling in a strange way. Selena screamed then, a horrible scream that ripped through the air and scared her, and made the dog on the shore began to howl, as a blooming of red mixed into the lovely green of the lake.

…

…

The girl snuggled in closer to her bosom, and for a moment the woman wrapped her arms around her. Fine hairs rubbed against the skin of her neck, as the child looked up at her. "What den?" she asked, still with the lisp of young childhood.

"Then the man turned towards the giant, and the giant roared a horrible sound-"

"And he runned away?" she squealed, wrapping her arms around the woman's arm and by doing so, blocking the view of the book.

The woman sighed and pulled the girl back. "You won't know unless you stay still, Muirgheal," she said.

"I be still!" Muirgheal said shrilly, freezing herself in place. "You finish it all now!"

Cordelia tutted chidingly. "I am being still," she corrected, "and you may finish."

Muirgheal merely looked up at her and blinked, her slate grey eyes widening. She wiped at her hair and nodded before pointing to the book. "I am still," she said.

"The man did not run," Cordelia continued, not reading at the book filled with poems, thinking instead of a tale her mother once told her. "No, he looked at the giant and was not afraid for he had prayed the night the before and his prayers were of the honorable sort, he knew the gods would bless. And the gods did, as the man rose up his lobber and tucked in a small almost unnoticeable stone and swung the stone at the great man of a giant, it flew. And-" She paused dramatically, and Muirgheal looked up her, demanding that tale be finished. "And the giant fell to the ground as the stone hit, powered and driven solely by the hands of the gods, and was no more. Soon the giants who fought for their slain king lay down their weapons for they no longer had a ruler to fight for. Then the man declared peace in the land, and was crowned as King, and he decided for the sake of integrity that the giants and their offspring were to be outlawed to their ancestor's mountain of bones and spines where they would live for the rest of their days, never to leave. And there was once again peace in the kingdom."

Cordelia looked down, having finished her tale and saw that the child was fast asleep. She smiled and gently moved her from her lap and into her arms, setting aside the book. Slowly she stood and lifted the small child, placing her onto her bed and left the room, blowing out the candle and surrounding the room in darkness.


	51. Chapter 29

___________________I do not own the Inheritance Cycle._  
This is where I hope you all read the side stories, because they now come into play. I did do a somewhat explanation but you'll understand things better if you've read them.  
Enjoy,

* * *

**Bear of Shadow**

After that night Ailis (as Rose decided to continue calling her) was gentler with Rose, but once the truth was let out, it couldn't be put back. Rose rebuffed her attempts at conversation, and for the next two day as they continued to ride through the plains in silence. In that silence Rose kept a careful count of the towns they passed, perhaps the only things she kept count of during those days, becoming more and more apprehensive.

With the shock of what Ailis had told her wearing away, Rose found herself almost completely inattentive, thinking more than observing what was around her. The more her mind strayed, the more she thought of Tornac. Memories of him looming before her mind; an afternoon gathering blueberries; evenings in a grand, glowing room playing lays and talking; a fright from a fall; smuggled desserts; earfuls of sterns words; and moments of comforts and hurts. She would wipe her eyes then and look around at the endless plains, the sun glared off the shining lake and she blinked, wiping her eyes once more. The flatlands stretched away before and behind her, the huge range of the Spine completely gone from sight, the only sign, Rose felt, that meant they had traveled any distance at all.

But with that moment would only last a second as Rose couldn't still her mind for long by looking at the landscape, and her doubts and fears surfaced and spread out before her. She was angry, a blinding ire that often left her breathless, at Ailis. For well over six months the woman had conversed with her, formed an amity with her knowing what she knew, who she was, and never once saying a thing about it. Sure, Ailis had told her things, things that if Rose had been sensible she would have paid closer attention to, but that hardly mattered. The words were not said. Rose supposed that it was because Ailis knew how she felt towards her mother, the childhood resentment of abandonment, and perhaps that was why. But, and this kept coming to the front of her mind in a nagging manner, her mother was dead.

Selena had died years ago having disappeared for a time during her duty of being the Black Hand, and later she returned to Morzan's castle wounded then passed into the Void. The King himself had announced Selena's death. And word of this woman, who claimed to be Selena, had never reached Rose's nor the King's ears; who had many spies in the Varden and elsewhere. It was inconceivable to think that this was not so, that Selena was not died, and that all those years Selena had in fact been alive. And it could not be so, for if it was: why had Rose been cast off to Urû'baen? Why hadn't her mother, if Ailis was indeed Selena, come sooner? And why, come at all?

Soon her thoughts paddled back and forth, trouncing her mind until it was sore as if it were beaten. And Thorn certainly didn't help her swirling thoughts any. _You have the same eyes_, he said one evening, after looking between them for a very long time. _Its easy to see when you know._ Rose had then grumbled at him that their eye color was different but the dragon simply blinked at her. _The color makes no difference to me, I see differently than you. You have a likeness to her that cannot be denied. I think that if her words are true, I would not be surprised._

_Selena is dead,_ Rose told him. _She had died in Morzan's castle. I was there to witness it._

_You were hardly a hatchling. It's not likely you remember your mother dying at such a young age,_ he said, playfully swatting her in the rump with his tail. _I remember very little of when I first hatched. I know only what you know and have told me, and I'm a dragon, my memory is better than that of a two-legged._

She glared at him without humor, and pushed his tail away. _You're not being amusing, Thorn._

_I am not trying to be._

Rose could have continued to argue with him, and a part of wanted to, but she decided against it and sat down. Looking up at the moon which was now at full, burning brightly in the chilled night, throwing shadows over the sedges, through the withies Rose shivered. Feelings she thought were dead rose up and distorted until they were unrecognizable, turning strange faces towards her, and a terrible desolation seized her heart. She lay on her back shivering with cold, unable to take any comfort in her body or mind.

She woke when it was still dark from troubled dreams that she did not remember. There had been no frost but she was drenched in a freezing, heavy dew, and the grey of the world seemed bleak and empty. She looked up at the sky, judging the day; wafts of auburn clouds rode the sky above, and orders of waterfowl squabbled as they fought the airstream, fragmenting the clear, endless blue. With an unhappy sigh, she sat up.

"A good morning to you, Rose," said Ailis, looking away from the cooking pot. "Did you sleep well?"

Rose narrowed her eyes and bit her lip, then sighed. "Well enough, I suppose," she said. "And you?"

"Quite decently," Ailis said, pouring water from the pot into their waterskins. When she finished she stood up and wiped her damp hands on her tunic. "Rose, there is something we need to discuss."  
Ailis paused, waiting for Rose to speak. Rose said nothing. How could Ailis truly expect for Rose to want to hear more that she had to say? When she was still reeling from when Ailis had last spoke those words? Surely she understood that it was too early in the day for this.

The woman sighed, and pulled back her loose hair from her face. "It would be so much easier if you would talk to me," she complained with an annoyed huff. "Its no matter I suppose, you only have to listen."

Rose shifted on the ground, suddenly uncomfortable on the rough grass, and felt Thorn mindtouch her. He didn't open his eyes, though he was not asleep, and his tail began to swish. _Listen to what she has to say,_ he said. _No harm can come from it. _

She simply looked at him and turned away. "Do tell me, then."

Ailis looked conflicted for a moment, then, as she moved the pot further from the fire with a long rodding stick, she began to talk. "I know you are having a difficultly believing what I had told you, and that you'll have a harder time still with what I'm about to say," she said slowly. "However, there are a number of things you need to know, and I'm going to direct once more, there is no time to be otherwise." She paused again, looking down as she tossed the stick into the brush, her face pale. "Three years after your birth I discovered I was with child once again, and I knew that I could not allow Morzan to discover this also, not after what he did to you." She paused, and looked up, studying the branches above. "I couldn't take you with me, and that was torturous knowledge, but I decided that when I returned I would find a way to take you from Gresyni Castle, as Morzan liked to call his castle.  
"And so I traveled to the town I grew up in and for a time I lived with my brother, wishing all the while that I brought you also. He and wife were very kind to have let me stay, we hadn't left before on good terms. Month passed and after the boy, your brother, came into the world, I left him there and returned to Gresyni but you were not there. So I left with a friend to the Varden, and didn't return.  
"Here's the problem, Rose, while I was in Teirm, I heard from a reliable source that my son is traveling to Dras-Leona, and this is why we travel in such haste. It's my hopes that we won't have go into Dras-Leona, and that we'll reach him beforehand."

Rose looked at her doubtingly, the rest of her body wouldn't move. "Ailis," she said. "You cannot expect me to believe the least of this?"

"I do expect you to," said Ailis, her eyes flashing. "It's the truth, Rose. Do you want evidence of some sort?"

Rose rubbed her eyes, in attempt to rub the sleep from them, and looked at Ailis in tired seriousness. Yes, Rose thought, verification to her avowal would be quite nice.

Ailis made an exasperated sound and stood up, looking around as if she were trying to think. "What is that you expect me to say," she said at last, "or do that will prove to you that I am speaking the truth? I've tried so hard to be truthful with you."

Cold anger washed through her, pushing away her better judgment, and Rose stood up also, glaring at the woman. "If you had spoken the truth in the beginning, perhaps I could believe you," said she, her voice calmer than what she felt it should be. "But you lied, and that's unforgivable. The truth is; I don't know _who_ you are, whether you're Ailis or Selena, I don't know. How am I to know? And now you tell me I have a brother, one who grew up in a peaceful town with your brother's family? That's he's traveling the country, for reasons only the gods know? It's too much to believe, and I wish to hear no more of it."

Rose turned away from Ailis, and tended to Eowyn and Shadowless, refusing to speak another word to the woman. After a time Ailis stopped in her attempts to get her to speak. And so the remainder of that day passed disconsolately. They passed five towns and two hamlets, Rose noticed this and little more.

The next day began no better than the one before it. The weather had turned, and now a shroud of silver clouds sheeted over the blue of the sky, though the clouds held no rain only bleakness, and a chilling wind drove inland from Leona Lake. It was the driving wind that woke Rose well before dawn, and she slowly got up, being mindful not to wake Ailis. She tried to comb through her hair, but it was so tangled after days of sleeping on the open that she almost broke her comb, and she gave up. At last, she stood up, finding no other reason to procrastinate, and began to saddle Shadowless, avoiding the woman's sleeping form. Thorn woke up when she mindtouched him, and looked at her grumpily. _There better be a decent reason as to why you woke me_, he said in his testiest of grumbling voices.

Rose tightened her grip on Shadowless' reigns, as she searched through her bags. _You're supposed to be keeping watch_, said she chidingly, pulling out a carving of a wooden deer, a child's toys that was missing one of its alters and the other stood crookedly on its chipped head. _No matter, nothing came and attacked us. I need for you to follow me, keep quiet and unseen. I don't want to wake Ailis._ Thorn entered her consciousness, and she flinched as the feeble inner shields of her mind were breeched and for a moment she felt his concern, as he searched her mind over, finding her motive. _Its only a brief time, I won't be able to stay. I only wish to take care of something, she'll hardly notice._

Thorn stood in sudden understanding. _I will wait until you are on the road,_ he said with heavy reluctance. _Then I'll follow._

Rose nodded and led Shadowless to the road, then leapt onto his back and forced him into a gallop. They stuck to the main road for little more than an hour before it forked off into a different road, this one gravel, and she slowed Shadowless to a slow trot. The closer she came to the turrets of Waelcombe Castle the more she began to feel nervous.

The castle was set on a green hill, that only grew bigger and bigger as she neared it, its muted brown stone walls thrust proudly and gracefully into the skies throwing back the sunlight. It watchfully stood high over the small garrison town of Bwryn, tall and noble against the common drab of feeble wood and mud walls and splintered wood tiled roofs. As she passed though the waking town, she kept herself veiled by her hood, her hair kept away from her face by her boy's cap- out of caution, she told herself but it was also out of shyness. Had she of been properly clothed and a warning sent ahead, she might not feel so nervous.

She arrived at the gates to Waelcombe by midmorning. The piece of land that spread out before her was completely free of snow, and she dismounted the horse and fingered the toy, wondering what she ought to do next. Above her loomed a huge gate, as high as three men, and made of thick black steel and thick oak. She looked around, knowing that the door were locked, and saw a bronze bell hanging high above, with a thin metal chain dangling down from its tongue. She pulled, and the bell clanged, making her jump.

A shutter from high above the gate opened and a man looked out. "Who goes there?" he shouted. "And what business to yeh bring?"

"My name is Thelma," answered Rose, cringing at the name. "And I bring urgent news for Ilbert of the House of Siriol!"

"He isn't taking no callings, miss!"

Rose looked up puzzled, and then shook herself. "Can you bring something to him, then?" she said. "Its very important that he gets this message."

The window banged shut in answer.

Rose reached into her jerkin and pulled out a pouch, once used for berries, with a piece of parchment and a pen in it. She pulled out the paper and wrote hastily, her words squishing together_: Ilbert- I must speak with you. There is a small hill a block to the north of here across from the baker's shop, I'll wait there until noon. Please, do come. Rose._

Then she stuffed the note and the wooden deer inside that sack, and tied it in a knot. She waited for a time, until the gate opened and a man. The man looked at her, muttering to himself that sounded like a curse, and held out his hand. Rose held the bag over his palm. "Ilbert needs to receive this, it comes from the capital, Urû'baen," she said forcefully shoving the small sack into his dry, peeling hand. "Do make sure he receives it." The man grumbled once more and walked off, sending the lock home behind him. Rose doubted the message would be sent to Ilbert, right away at least.

.

She waited for what seemed an age, before Ilbert came, and at first she did not recognize him, nor did he her. When he had rode up on a chestnut colored stallion, it took her a moment to realize that it was him, the only thing that allowed her to do so was the mass of untamed curls that framed his face, giving him a waggish appearance. He had grown a hand's span taller than she, and his face was harder than it was the last time they had met. He had caught her staring then, and she stood up, he studied her. A sudden look of recognition dawned on his face, and bounced off the chestnut and walked towards her briskly. He looked her over and bowed his head in greeting. "Rose! Well, met!" he said, his voice deeper than she remembered it being. "I didn't think I'd ever see you here."

She smiled at him weakly, and returned his greeting. "Well met, indeed, Ilbert," she said, inclining her head, glancing around at the people milling about the streets. "Do you know of a place where we can speak in private?"

Ilbert nodded, his curls bouncing around his face. "Follow me."

He led her through the streets of Bwryn, past a bakery and mill, a butcher's shop and the small stalls of the local market. As he led her, Rose watched him, he moved so different than what he did when they were children playing in the gardens or castle, no longer with the awkward gracefulness of youth.

He was perhaps, besides Tornac, the closest friend Rose had had in her childhood, and one of few people she trusted completely still. Ilbert had left Urû'baen to live with his aunt and uncle years before due to his poor health and since he and Rose had met only once, although they had exchanged letters but those were unreliable things. Though they hadn't seen each other in well over two years, walking down the street with him now felt no different than wandering the halls with him those years before, but it was strange, him being taller than her.

"Where is Tornac?" Ilbert asked as they walked, past a young man and his wife who was heavy with child. "I thought if anyone would come here with you, it'd be him."

"Tornac is dead," said Rose, in a straightforward manner, looking at her hands. "He passed into the Void a week or so ago. He was shot by an arrow."

Ilbert stopped and turned and looked at her, before looking down. "That's very hard news," he said continuing forward.

"It is."

"Have you been traveling alone, then?" he said. "The thoroughfares are no place for a lone woman."

Rose looked up at him and made a face, causing him to smile in return. "I have not," she said. "I've been traveling with a companion."

"Is this companion the one who taught you wear a sword at your hip?"

Rose looked down at it, she had forgotten that it was there. "No," she told him. "That was Tornac."

Ilbert smiled sadly. "I should have been able to guess as much." He stopped at a gate, wide and tall enough to fit two horses abreast thought, and pulled a short brass key out. Then he unlocked the gate, and held it open for her.

She walked through the entranceway, pulling Shadowless behind her, and looked inside the small lit chamber of that belonged to the walls of the city. There wasn't much to see only damp brick walls, routes of green rotting through them, and lit touches. "No one will hear us here?"

"No. No one ever uses this passage, but its kept lit incase a need arises." Ilbert guided his horse through and shut the door behind him. He looked at her, and Rose saw unhidden shock in them. "So, tell me, what bought you here, dressed like a clandestine keeping boy?"

Rose took off her hood, and boy's cap, and looked up the ceiling that was hidden in shadow. Suddenly she realized that she wanted to tell Ilbert about all that happened, and at the same moment she knew she could not. She looked at his face, it wasn't as pale as she remembered it being. "Many things," she said finally, and then she began to tell him about Ailis, what had passed in the capital and how they had left, and her adventures. She said nothing though about Thorn, or the dragon eggs, the Varden, or the death of Thelma and her baby, and very little about Dunion- only that he had assisted her and what she thought of him, nor did she say the names of Padern and Voirrey and their family, nothing that could betray them to the Empire.

When she was done, Ilbert looked at her, his face the shade she always recalled it being. He swallowed. "By the gods," he said weakly. "All this time you've been out there, truly out there, haven't you?" He leaned onto the belly of his horse. "Its almost ironic to think, though, that the King wished for you travel as his assassin and you run from that, only to travel about with an assassin."

Rose looked at him with irritation. "There is nothing that proves that Ailis is who she says she is."

"It seems to equal up to me," Ilbert said, rubbing the horse's neck absently. The horse shook itself and nickered at the dimness around them. "Your mother was skilled almost beyond compare, because of what Morzan taught and did to her, and this woman seems to be also." He paused for a moment, and then his hazel eyes lit up. "You have a portrait of Morzan and Selena, do you not? Haven't you thought to think on that, since you cannot return to your chambers? Does the woman painted and this Ailis look similar?"

Rose started and looked at him. She had shoved the painting to the back of her wardrobe years ago, and covered it with a thin sheet, so that she wouldn't have look at their frozen faces anymore, it was too painful. But she thought about it, loathing Ilbert for bringing it up, and she realized that there were similarities to the woman called Ailis and the woman that was painted. Looking at him, she shook her head. "No," she said. Lying to him didn't sit easy with her, making her feel very warm in that chilled room.

"You'll stay here, then," he said with a tone of finality. "My uncle has many spare rooms, he'd be happy to accommodate you. You can stay here in a place you belong, sheltered as you should be. The King wouldn't have to know for a time, and with you knowing what you do, he'd forgive you someday."

Rose closed her eyes. "I cannot," she said thinking of Thorn. "Its no longer safe for me to stay in one place."

"I don't like to think of you traveling, so young and without protection, over wide and dangerous lands," he said, looking away. "Nowhere can be less safe than here." He stopped and looked up at her, his hand falling to his side.

"I think that nowhere is safer, for now perhaps," said Rose, rubbing her hands together. "I'm not unprotected, Ilbert, I know how to defend myself and I doubt anyone will surprise us again."

"You're a woman, and I mean no offense when I say this," he said looking at the warning look she gave him, "traveling alone with another woman. There are bandits on the road, you cannot be sure that you can hold your own against them. More than that, even I could see that you were no boy under that hood, a few may not question it but many others will. Doing what you're speaking of is not in your place."

"The King wished for me travel alone," she said, allowing him to get a rise out of her. "What difference does it make with me traveling with another woman, without his blessing? I cannot stay, I will not stay, and I did not come here to argue with you. I'll have plenty of people to argue with when I return."

Ilbert looked at her questioningly, but subsided, looking disappointed. "Why did you come here then?"

"I have a favor to ask of you." She touched the dark mane on Shadowless, running her fingers through it. "I need you care for Shadowless, we can no longer continue to travel with him. More than that I want him to be safe from harm," Rose said. "Tornac would have wished for you to have him."

"And you?" he said gently, still looking down. "Don't you think he would have wanted you keep Shadowless?"

Rose shook her head. "I have a horse."

"I have many."

"He's safer here," she said.

Ilbert frowned at her. "As are you."

"Don't bicker with me," she said. "No more arguing about that, remember that agreement. There's to be no more of it."

"I remember," he said. "I just don't like it." Ilbert sighed. "You wish for me to care for the horse, and allow you to leave?"

Rose nodded. "Yes."

There was a long electric silence, in which neither of them looked at each other.

"So be it," he said, at last, looking very unhappy. "In the least tell me that you will not return to this Ailis on foot, that you have a way back by other means."

"I do." She shifted on her feet, eager suddenly to go. As good as it was see Ilbert again, as tempting at it was to stay and not leave, she knew she had to because of Thorn and Ailis, and Tornac he certainly wouldn't wish for her to stay. And she found that though she did want to, very much, the thought of never seeing Thorn again was worse than the thought of leaving Ilbert.

"Allow me to ride with you to where ever you're supposed to go, then," he said.

Rose agreed, was happy to agree to that, and they left the city quickly. Ilbert talked along the way of news from the capital, not all it pleasing to hear, under the warmth of escaping sun. It reminded her of her childhood, she hadn't felt this free in age, just chatting about nothing, until she knew she couldn't continue and she mindtouched with Thorn, stopping Shadowless at the bottom of a large hill, off the road. She hopped off the horse, and rubbed his neck before kissing his peach colored snout in a goodbye. "Do take care of him," she said, feeling quite ill, quite suddenly.

Ilbert merely looked away at the landscape. "I said I would," he said. "I don't see this ride of yours."

"He won't come until you leave."

He raised an eyebrow. "No?"

She shook her head sadly. "No."

Ilbert jumped down from his horse and they embraced her in farewell, then took Shadowless' reigns and Rose watched as he rode away. Moments later, Thorn landed close to her. _Are you hurt?_ he asked.

Rose shook her head and wiped at her eyes. _Not in the way you speak of. Allowing someone you love to leave is perhaps one of the hardest things in life,_ she said. _Harder still when you know they do not wish to._ Thorn pounded his tail and the ground not far from her feet, and she startled looking at him in irritation. _You're such a nuisance, you know that?_ She sighed, looking at him from the corner of her eyes._ Let's go, then shall we?_

.

When Rose returned to the site of camp, late that afternoon, she saw that Ailis was sitting there by the fire, cutting into a piece of wood with a knife. She looked up when Thorn landed, and glared at Rose accusingly. "It's your intention, I think," she said, looking ready to strangle her, "to worry me to my death. Where's Shadowless?"

Rose patted Thorn on the neck, and jumped down from the crook near his neck. "He is safe." She walked towards Ailis, a sour taste in her mouth. "I took him to a friend of mine as we not in the need of three horses," she sat down close to Ailis and looked at her, her resolve hardening.

During her ride back with Thorn, they had talked, he had even flown back taking a longer route so they could talk for a longer time, about many things and he had convinced her to hear what the woman had to say. To save her judgments until then, this reminded her of words Tornac had spoken, warnings not to let her anger get the better out of her. It was so very childish of her, to allow her anger to get the best of her. When she promised to listen to Ailis without interruption or words of indignation, Thorn landed, and now he nudged her with his snout as he lay near her, causing her to sigh.

"If you are willing to, I would like to hear about what happened in your past," she said, her eyes hard. "It has been impertinent of me not to ask earlier. I would like to apologize for that."

Ailis looked at her in moment of shock, but nodded. "We have lost too much time," she said as she stood. "I'll tell you as we ride."


	52. Chapter 30

_____________________I do not own the Inheritance Cycle.  
I had always though CP was a coward for creating such a good character and never allowing her to show herself- to only allow her story to be known, but nothing more.  
Enjoy,_

* * *

**Falsehood**

The tale began when she was a child, with a fateful happening that changed her life completely.

She was born just outside a small village in the Spine to the cobbler Cadoc and his lovely wife. Even now she could still remember the bitter smell of leather that infested their small home.

She had been alive through eight, maybe nine, summers, when her mother was heavy with a coming child. This child made her mother weak, and many of the woman's duties fell onto her. At this time her mother's brother lived with her father and mother, her brother and her. Nele was a good man, who worked hard in the fields with her father, and when her father had to work in his cobbler's stall Nele would work alone. All memories that she had of her Uncle Nele were wholesome, expect for one.

"My mother and I were sitting at the table snapping beans," the woman told Rose as they rode down the road side-by-side. "I remember because I was disappointed that I couldn't go outside."

Rose glanced at her almost humoredly, then turned forward, choosing to say nothing.

Her brother, his name was Garrow, ran into the house, damp from the day's work under the sun, very upset. Her mother looked at him, she had been worrying about him moments before, and he blurted that Elis' father was there. The man had come to the house seeking justice for the loss of his son, his only son, but he had come to a place where none was to be found. There had been an accident weeks before, one that both she and her brother were involved in, one that Elis had lost his life over, and his father was very drunk and very angry. Her mother had told her and Garrow to stay in the house, not to leave and to continue snapping beans, before she ran out the home herself. She and Garrow hadn't listened.

"It had been a mistake not to continue snapping those beans," she said. "We should have, both Garrow and I knew that, but we did not. We ran to the window and looked out, wanting to know what was happening. We heard my father yell at my mother to go back inside, but she refused to do so instead yelling at him, her brother and the man, I never learned his name. I don't remember what she said, but it made the man very upset."

Elis' father grabbed ahold of her mother, and though it should have been her husband who defended her, Nele was faster. Nele attacked the man, and the man attacked back until they were in a fully blown brawl. Somehow, she hadn't seen how, the man pulled out a knife and stabbed her uncle. "I don't remember screaming or crying, though Garrow said I had," the woman continued. "According to him I had tried to run outside and get to my uncle Nele, and he had fought me down to kepp me from doing so. Which was something that he could easily do, me being four summers younger than him."

Her mother had run in then and behind her, was her father. Her father was dragging Nele behind him, he was alive and awake, dripping with blood and begging for death. Her father had yelled, in his panic (her father was not a yelling man), at her and her brother, telling them to get back. He then told her to get water and clean rags, and told Garrow to take their horse and run it into town and to call for help. Garrow was first to move, running out of the house like there were rabid dogs snapping at his heels, but it took her a moment to move and do as her father asked her to. By this time her father had returned outside, in a task that she never found out about, but afterwards she never saw Elis' father again. They, she and her mother, tried to lessen the bleeding but found they could not, and he bled to his death moments before Garrow returned with help.

Months passed and soon her mother birthed a son, he lived only months before he joined his uncle in the Void. Her mother and father were devastated. Two years afterward her mother left this world also during, yet another, childbirth.

"I hold very few memories of my mother, but what I have I cherish," she said. "She was a patient woman, always smiling. She had a beautiful smile, it lit up her whole face and made her seem ageless. She taught me much but not enough. She was always tender, even when I caused mischief. You would have liked her, I think. When she left to journey into the next life, it was a hard time for my family. I was but child still and yet I was expected to fill in my mother's shoes. It was a demanding task, one I more failed more offend than not."

The demands of her chores, made her rebellious and reckless, and she soon began to long for a life away from her father's demands. It was around this time that she met Morzan. She and Garrow were in the tavern, running an errand for their father when she first saw him, she was perhaps fifteen years in age.

Morzan was a handsome man, tall and tanned, he was talking to a local, and as he talked his fingers painted the air with worldly images. It was very little wonder that she was immediately enthralled by him, finding herself watching him, listening to the sound of his voice.

The son of the man running the tavern, said that he needed assistance with the package, and Garrow had told her to stay, that he'd be only a moment. She hadn't been happy with him, commanding her about like she were a naughty dog, but she listened and stayed put.

This is when Morzan took notice to her, as his previous listening ear had excused himself and left, and he turned to her, and for a time they talked on a subject, that she no longer remembered, until her brother returned and they said their farewells. But that was not the last she saw of Morzan. He came again weeks later in the early in the months of that summer.

Upon his return, he sent a message for her on a day her father and brother were planning to spend the day hours hunting for meat, and so they were not home. She did not think to go at first, but in the end she did, perhaps out of loneliness or perhaps not.

"We met in a valley in the forest near evening," she said emotionlessly. "It was a very long walk from my father's home to that valley, and I was very tired after walking all that way. He was sitting on a rock, poking at the fire, I had thought it to be a very normal thing to do. When I saw him I thought my insides were to about burst, my heart was beating so fast and my head felt as if it were about roll off my shoulders. I thought he was prefect; brilliant, clever, funny, magnificent, and charming. He seemed to give off a light, in a way, as if there was something special about him, that he had access to a brilliantly illuminated part of the world and if I was lucky he would share it with me. Like before, I was instantly enchanted."

They talked for a short time, before Morzan requested for her to leave with him. He told her that he hadn't stopped thinking about her, over the months they'd been apart he couldn't stop thinking about her, and that without her he was nothing.

Rose looked doubtfully at the woman then, and shook her head. "It seems doubtful that Morzan would say such a thing," she said. "It sounds to the very opposite of everything thing I heard about him."

"You've heard that he is cunning, haven't you?" the woman asked, her focus on the road.

Rose nodded, and then realizing that the action wouldn't be seen, she said, "Yes, I have. However, for him to say anything to make himself seem vulnerable, it seems very unlikely."

The woman looked her with a mixed between a smile and a grimace. "He was baiting me," she said, "and I took it. Morzan was a clever a man, he knew how to get what he wanted. He was perhaps the only reason why Galbatorix rose to power so quickly, and was able to bring out the downfall of the Riders. The King is a brilliant man himself, do not misunderstand, but he does not see things the way Morzan did; like everything is some brilliant puzzle that can be solved with the right understanding. I think that without Morzan, Galbatorix would still be hiding out in the wild." She shook herself. "As I was saying, Morzan for whatever reasons he had, he wanted me. I was drawn to him, his knowledge of the world, his brilliance, and I said I would go."

She didn't wish to carry on with her life under her father's reign; to soon get married to the man he picked, and have his children, and care for him and his aching back every night and every day until they grew old. When she agreed, he called down his dragon. The dragon landed in front of them, and she nearly ran away in fright.

"He, I always thought of Morzan's dragon as being a he, was the largest creature I had ever seen. At first I thought it to be a monster," she said. "In some ways I was correct in my thinking, in others I was not. The dragon was big and red, darker in color than Thorn, with shining golden eyes, and there was a small tear on one of his wings, I remember seeing that and feeling bad for him."

Morzan then told her who he was, that he was a Rider, a Forsworn, and she had thought that only added to his grandness. He helped her onto the dragon then, and they stopped very briefly at her father's home, where she left a hasty note in farewell and grabbed a few things she held dear, and warmer clothing which she dressed herself in, per Morzan's request, before leaving that place.

They flew over the mountains where it was very cold, and she knew then why she was dressed so warmly. She thought it to be a beautiful sight, unlike any that could be imagined. They camped at night, and talked by firelight- it was then that she began to love him.

They reached his castle two days after leaving Carvahall, the town she had grown up in, and she was shocked to see such grandeur. Morzan landed in the courtyard and the next morning he left, saying he'd be back very soon.

She felt out of place living in that castle, there was so little for her to do there, wearing soft gowns and silk slippers, being taught the refineries of womankind, and she began to hate it. Before she always had a purpose, there she had none: she was to sit and look pretty, and this didn't sit well with her. The moment Morzan returned, a very long week later, he told her she was to come with him, and once again she did, eager to leave his fortress.

He took her to the capital, where she felt even more graceless and awkward, and there she met Galbatorix for the first time. The king had said many thing, he and Morzan talked for ages, and she felt very put out by the formalities at play.

"The King is almost as charming as Morzan was," she said, "but he has a vehemence about him that cannot be hidden behind pretty words. Despite this Morzan was loyal to him, like a dog to its master, which had, at the time puzzled me."

They stayed there for a long time, and she found that she could not talk to the women there as she had in Carvahall, and she made no friends. As time went by, she turned more and more to Morzan as company, and began to love him even more. "He had done this, I think, on purpose," she said. "Isolating me. Forcing me to come to him more and more for companionship. I think he knew I wouldn't get on with the women of Court, perhaps if I had we wouldn't have stayed there for such a long time."

One day, a month after first setting foot into Galbatorix's castle, Morzan requested her to marry him, to make, as he claimed, their love known and everlasting. She agreed, how could she not? He was, as she thought, everything in a man that she ever wanted.

They were wedded on a lovely summer's day, the sky was clear of all clouds and the purest of blues and the cun glittered in the sky like a giant jewel. It was a grand and happy event, there was dancing and a feast and music unlike any she had ever heard or seen. She was happy.

The woman paused, then and looked at Rose, for a moment, in silence. "Let's rest for a moment, shall we?" she said, steering them off the road.

Rose followed her in uneasy silence. "What I do not understand," she said, tightening her grip on leather of Eowyn's reigns, "is how you didn't see Morzan for what he was."

"And what was he?" She turned around and gave Rose a questioning look.

Rose was silent for a time as she thought this over. "A dipsomaniac bedlamite," said she, at last, in a matter-of-fact tone.

The woman laughed, but it was muffled by the wind. "In some ways that it very true. Love is a blinding thing, Rose, it makes you overlook one's faults," she said stopping near a sputtering stream filled with flat, round rock. She dismounted and led Lanorgrim to the water, allowing him to drink from its flowing water. Then she sat down, as Rose did the same with Eowyn, and pulled out the traveling biscuits and tough meat, she handed Rose her share when she seated herself close to her. "We left Urû'baen that next morning, and returned again to his castle, and again he left me there."

He was away for well over a month, leaving her to be feeling rather jaded. She felt again useless, being stuck inside that castle with no real use, and she began to devise a plan.

"When Morzan returned, at last, I asked to enter his service, and he agreed to test me. He taught me basic magic and simplest words of the Ancient Language. When he was content with my knowledge he pitted me against a dozen of his finest solders." She paused for short moment and carved an_ X_ into the dirt. "I healed them of their loyalties to Morzan and then I slaughtered them, there's no better way to describe it. I told myself it was no different than killing livestock, I've done that hundreds of times before, but it was still hard thing to allow myself to live with. After that Morzan trained me further in magic and telepathy, these I took quickly to, in my credulity I was eager to please."

For many months he trained her, and when he was pleased her knowledge and abilities, he began taking her with him on his trips. For the first few voyages, which she would not speak of, she was beside him always, and he continued to coach her, and then he sent her off on her own. By now violence had become something normal in her life, and acting on it no longer bothered her, and she did as she was told and returned to him. This continued for two more years, and a name was made for her, one that brought about fear.

And then, she found out that she was with child.

She felt many emotions at that time, the most prominent was fear. It was out of that fear that she ran from Morzan, he made it very well known that he had no desire for children, nor did she. She spent three days in the plains before she returned to her husband with news of her state. He did not respond as he expected him to, he reacted pleasantly enough before whisking her away to his castle. There she hid for nine months.

"Over this time I thought much and I grew to look forward to becoming a mother, to seeing my child grow into an adult. These were ideas I had by no account ever believing I would reflect on. Over this time I began to change and so did Morzan's hold on me though he did not know it," the woman said, standing up, signaling for Rose to do the same. They mounted the horses before continuing on the trail.

"When you were born-" she said, her voice faulting- "When you were born I believed I could have a family with Morzan as I've been dreaming over for nine months. Morzan was not there, he was away at Urû'baen, and so for three days I was able to be your mother. Only three days. The moment Morzan came back, he looked at you from the doorway and said that your name was to be 'Muirgheal,' before he forced a wet nurse to care for you. He then demanded I leave on another of his missions. I went through the motions and did the job quickly eager to get home, only when I did get back he sent me away once more. It went this way for over five months before I was able to see my baby, you, again."

She was shocked by how much her child had grown and how little the girl wanted her mother, crying for her wetnurse each time she was held by her mother. The mother soon became bitter and angry, that was when she first began to resent Morzan. Little over a week after her return she was, again, sent away. While she traveled, it began troubling her knowing that this would now be her life, to be sent away for countless months only to come home briefly to see her child grown and unwanting.

"Despite this I was still enthralled with Morzan," the woman said, "and it took extreme measures for me to finally see his hatred and cruelty but by then it was too late." She shook her head, her brown tresses swaying around her.

One day she met a man and they quickly fell in love. This was true and pure, untainted by abhorrence and war, though those were the very reasons for their meeting. He was bent on vengeance and for this reason he had found a way into Morzan's stronghold by pretending to be a maimed gardener by the name of Donet. Sometime after they met and began to love each other she learned of his past and her hatred for Morzan grew.

"I will not convey his past to you for it is not my story to tell," she said, pausing as she though carefully over her next words. "Know only that he had a reason to hate Morzan, more than I do."

She began to do all she could to defy her husband, giving away the Empire's secrets to the Varden, as she was one of the few individuals Morzan trusted she knew almost all there was to know. She did all she could not to flourish when she did Morzan's missions as she had before, without him noticing. He noticed at times, and others he did not.

After five years of marriage to Morzan she found that was again with child, and she was petrified of her discovery.

"Why hadn't you left before this?" Rose asked, rubbing her arms, knowing what was to come. "You could have taken me and run from him, why hadn't you?"

The woman looked at her, and shook her head. "I didn't because I knew I couldn't. If I'd run away from Morzan with you, he would have moved the heavens to get us back. He would have followed to me the ends of the earth, because I belonged to him and he would have never willingly let you go. I would have taken my chances and let him come after me, but I would never let him come after you."

"I was a nuisance to Morzan," said Rose. She looked at her hands, as she twisted them in the reigns. "Why would he come after me?"

"You're full of questions tonight, aren't you?" the woman said, jokingly. "You were important to him, and he loved you in his own way though he let no one see it. In his eyes you belonged to him as much as I did, that is why he would come after you. His enemies could use you against him, and he didn't want a chance of that, not in the least."

Nodding, Rose fell silent.

She had been carrying another child and had known it for weeks, when Morzan sent her away once more. It was about this time she had met Padern and Voirrey.

"I was sitting in a tree, watching them," she said, "when one of their dogs startled me. I fell from the tree and hit my head on the ground, knocking myself insensible. When I woke up, I was in a bed and Padern's mother was standing over me, tending to me. My first thought was the child, and I panicked. He was unharmed, but I was not. My leg was injured, a bone had been broken, and I could not walk on it for a time. They took care of me, befriended me, as I recovered. I couldn't tell them who I truly was so I told them my name was Ailis. When I had healed I left for Carvahall."

She took a route through the Spine, one that took months, and when she arrived she was heavy with child. Garrow hadn't been happy to see her, and they fought for hours, before he relented and embraced her, seemly having forgiven her without notice. He allowed her to live with him, his wife, and their son. During this time she found out that her father had passed into the Void, something she was disappointed in learning as she was looking to receive his forgiveness. Then she birthed a son, who she named 'Eragon.' She stayed only long enough to recover from childbirth and ensure that her son would be raised by Garrow and his wife, and live out his life in peace, and then she left to return to Morzan's castle.

Upon her return, she was ambushed by a group of highwaymen, and they nearly killed her, having caught her by surprise. She did to them the same justice they would have dealt to her, and then, wounded she continued forward. During all her time in Carvahall, she had worked on a plan to free herself and her daughter for Morzan completely and she was ready to do it, but then she crossed paths with the man she called Donet.

"Can you not tell me this Donet's given name?" Rose asked breathlessly. "Surely there is not a reason to hide that about him also."

"Rose…" the woman said warningly.

"I'm only trying to understand, that is all," she said looking at the evening sky. "If you're to tell me you loved a man while you were married to Morzan, the least you could tell was this man's name."

The woman took a deep breath as if she were about to dive into water. "His name is Brom."

Rose nearly fell from Eowyn's back, thoroughly startled. Brom was once a Dragon Rider, whose dragon was slain during the Uprising, he had killed Morzan and his dragon in Gil'ead. _Is there no end to this ludicrous?_ she said to Thorn.

_Listen to what she has to say, _the dragon growled back. _It may sound like absurdity to you, but it's her past. She isn't telling you about it lightly._

Rose fell silent again. Thorn was correct once more, but how could she push aside the knowledge she grew up knowing and accept what was being said? Truth or not, this woman was telling her something she obviously rarely spoke of. But it seemed so very unlikely that any of this was true, though as the woman spoke she began to feel more and more that the words were one of truth. She shook herself and listened intently.

Brom, or Donet as he was called moments before, had healed her of her injuries. He had reached Morzan's castle before she had, and when she insisted on continuing there, he told of what he learned while there. "I don't think he wished to be the one to tell me my daughter- you- were died, murdered while Morzan was in a rage," she said. She stopped for a time unable to continue. "I think in a way it hurt him to me as much as it killed me to hear it from him."

She wanted to kill Morzan, but knew she could not. When Brom told her Morzan was dead she felt nothing, just continued as she had before mourning her lost child. The morning after that night they did go to Morzan's castle, and she packed what was hers, magicked the servants to believing that she had died there, that day, and left the castle forever.

She and Brom went to Padern's and Voirrey's farm estate, and they were allowed to stay. They remained there for a month, before Brom and she separated. He went to Du Weldenvarden, for reasons she would not say, and she remained there. Brom returned, almost a whole year later, and they left for the Varden.

"While at the estate I decided to become Ailis, not wanting Galbatorix to know of my existence," the woman said. "It was an escape for me, also, to leave my mistakes and deeds behind and pretend to be someone else. I could function better, thinking of my past as if it belonged to someone else."

They reached the Varden, and Brom left once more. She sent him away, it was safer for him not to discovered by Galbatorix's spies, and though he did not wish to, he did as she said. After that, she continued forward in her life, letting the years pass by, doing all she could to, as she said, to redeem herself.

"For years the only thing that kept me going was the drive to bring down the Empire and I worked vigorously on raids and war plans. When eleven long years had passed one of the spies in Galbatorix's palace informed the Varden leader that you were in fact alive and not died as I had been deceived to believe," the woman said. "Your death had been Morzan's final ploy, the greatest trick he played on me yet. I had never despised him as much as I did then. Feeling that way towards a dead man, Rose, does you no good because you can do nothing to them."

After finding out that her daughter was not dead, she worked ferociously to come up with a way to get to her. She did research for years, until she thought of a way to get into the capital, and then with the assistance of countless intelligent minds something was devised. The simple answer was to deceive those around her herself into believing she was after the dragon eggs, and wished to free them. She couldn't just leave, if she had, she would have no place safe to return to. And so she worked on her problems until they were solved and then left to find Tornac.

"It was around the time that his brother had passed from this world, if I remember correctly, and he was already distraught over that," said the woman. "He cared for you, very much, and he was not happy to see me in the least. I thought at first he wished to kill where I stood."

They talked for a very long time, and at last, he agreed to help her, he agreed also to not tell Rose. Then she left to return to the Varden, and did not see him again until they met in Urû'baen.

When she returned to the Varden she worked even harder than before, until it was time.

"Cordelia retired on her own accord," she said, "I will let you know that, that was not my doing. If she hadn't things would have been a little more difficult, still workable just harder."

Her days in Urû'baen were stressful. She worked very hard to keep out of trouble and from the notice of the king, though she thought he knew she was there but was not certain of it, and she slept very little at night. She collected what news she could, and explored parts of the castle she hadn't the chance for before, and worked very hard on gaining Rose's trust.

"I thought that I might die there, and I wondered how I would withstand torture," the woman said. "I thought that my chances didn't seem good. I don't know what made it possible, but I think Tornac had a hand in it, for me to get the eggs from the treasury and escape with you. After that I tried countless times to tell you, and Tornac tried to corner me into doing so a handful of times, but I couldn't and I don't know why."

Rose looked at her, and studied her truly for the first time. This woman was unlike what she had thought she would be, and she had her doubts but her words rung true to her. No person would work this hard and create such a tale to deceive her, and speak about it with such emotion as she had. She didn't like it, part of her wished it wasn't so, but it was. She swallowed and turned away.

"And now we find your son?" she said.

Selena nodded. "Now we find Eragon."

Rose continued to look ahead at the land that bowed before them, the mingling gold from the setting sun that reflected off the snow, to the west the lake glittered on colorful hues. It was truly a beautiful sight, unlike any she had ever seen before. She continued to watch the landscape as they continued forward on the road.


	53. Short Story 23

_______________________________________________________I do not own The Inheritance Cycle._

* * *

_Reverie_

Brom was perched high in a tree looking off in the distance at the sea, listening the slapping of the waves as they beat against the shining hills of sand. He could hear somewhere far off the laugher of children, the chattering of birds and a dog, and there someone calling his name. He turned then, nearly toppling out of the tree, and saw the form of his brother. Sadon wasn't far from him, but Brom could only see his tall form through the leaves, he wore a brown tunic and dark leggings, and his hair was pulled back from his face in a low ponytail.

A wind blew from off the sea, rustling the leaves, and blowing his hair into his face, and in that moment Sadon looked up from him below. "What's wrong with you, little squirrel?" Sadon said. "Those elves are looking everywhere for you."

Shifting, Brom looked down at him, pulling the tiny, sleeping dragon closer to his body. "I don't want to go," he said. "Father needs me here where I can help him, and you and Nera are to be wedded soon."

"Father has two other sons to work," Sadon said with a sigh. "Believe me, you leaving an't gonna make him decide not to work us plenty. You're needed as a Rider now, to train with the elves and everything."

Brom huffed and looked up at the sky. "I know," he said in a sad voice. "Do you think that those elves will let me stay until after you're wedded? I don't want to go to that place until then. Or maybe you move the wedding to be before I leave, if they don't let me stay very long."

Sadon rubbed his face with both of his hands. "I don't know. I can't tell you, you'll have to ask them," he said. "Gods this is such a mess." He shook his head.

Looking away, Brom studied the rolling water for a short time before growing bored and looking down at the dragon hatchling who was nearing sleep. "What do you think Illirea is like?" he said, fidgeting in sudden nervousness. "Do you think it is big?"

"It's the capital," Sadon said with a snort, "I would hope that its big. Now, you best come down from up there. Mother's worried about you."

Brom looked down, tightening his grip on the branch he held to balance himself. "I can't."

"What do you mean you can't?"

With a groan of frustration, Brom closed his eyes. "I can't," he repeated.

Sadon barked out a hard laugh which nearly scared Brom out of the tree, the hatchling on his lap looked up and squeaked with displeasure. "You an't meaning to tell me that you got yourself stuck," he laughed. "Got up but you can't get down." He calmed suddenly, catching Brom's hurt look, and leaned against the tree. "We'll find a way to get you down, perhaps you ask that dragon of yours. I'm willing to bet the dragon can get down quick as wind."

Brom licked his lips, tasting the salt on his skin from the sea. He opened his mouth unsure of what to say, and then close it. Then, something shook him and he blinked and looked around in panic, his brother was glancing at the tree as if looking for a way to get Brom and the dragon down, and the hatchling was perfectly calm. She, for the elves said the hatchling was a she, looked up and blinked up at him.

"Brom!" a woman shouted, but there was no woman around to shout it.

His name was called again and he blinked, taking in a sudden, sharp breath. When he opened his eyes, it was not the sight of glittering sea nor the canopy of vivid leaves but a woman's face darkened in the cover of night. He groaned and rubbed his eyes. "What is it, Selena?" he said grumpily, turning away from her, wishing to return his reverie of dreams. His Saphira was there, in his dreams, and perhaps if fell back asleep quick enough he could return to her. Something inside him ached, an old injury that hadn't quite healed properly that likely never would, at the thought of his dragon. He mumbled something incoherently.

She shook him violently, pulling at his arm. "Brom," she said, her voice urgent and hitched with alarm. "You need to get up at this moment, there's something in that bed."

Brom turned and looked at her doubtfully. "There is not a living soul who could get past the protective spells we've cast."

"Brom," she said, pulling again at his arm, "it is not a person. Please, get up."

Feeling as if he had jumped into an icy lake, Brom shoot up from the bed, his dream forgotten, and looked around the room. It seemed to him that nothing was amiss, that everything was as it should be, but he pulled the coverings to the bed back and threw them carelessly onto the ground. Selena came closer from behind him, and lift herself onto the tips of her toes, looking over his shoulder at the bed. He could feel her body shudder against his, and he looked intently at the bed. "You woke me because of that," he said staring at bed without the faintest hint of humor. "A snake. A harmless one at that."

She sighed and her breath swept over his skin. "I woke you because I can't sleep with a snake in the room."

"Then you best take it outside," he said raising an eyebrow at her in question.

She sucked in a breath of air, and leaned herself against his back, wrapping her arms around him. "Brom," she said, somehow forming his name into a plea. "I can't."

"And why not?" He said, trying to think of a reason as to why Selena wouldn't wish to go near a snake. And then, he realized with more than a slight shock, that she must be frightened by the creature. How was it that she could be afraid of a snake? When she had survived some the greatest terrors; seen the worst of mankind?

He resisted the sudden urge to smile, and pulled out of her embrace to pick the small, green snake. It made a hissing sound, and its red tongue flashed out as his hand picked it off the bed. The snake felt cold in his hands, its scales smooth like rumpled silk. He turned to Selena and held the snake up for her to see. She looked at for a short in distaste before stepping away from him, shooing him away. Then he walked the door and walked tiredly down the halls, as the weight of wariness from his trip here began to burden him.

It had been a very long and hard trip from Ellesmera to the home of Padern, where Selena had chosen to stay while he was away. He had spent much of the last year working through plans of what to do with the rescued dragon egg, speaking with his childhood mentor, seeking advice, and searching for a safe place for him and Selena to move to where they could live in peace as they should. They had decided that she would bare no more children for a time, perhaps through her lifetime, and that their son, Eragon, would remain in Carvahall.

Brom had wished to take the boy from his uncle and for them to raise him as he should be, but Selena was adamant that Eragon was to remain in Carvahall. He had thought at the time, and still did, that Selena merely feared raising their son, bring him into the danger that seemed to follow them, and that perhaps with time the fear would change and Eragon could join them. But this would not be, Brom came to understand the reasons why and agreed with those reasons almost completely, despite his misgivings.

Having arrived to the agrarian's home three days before, he and Selena had talked again of their future, the life they would live out together. They talked on it for hours, even argued, and when Selena said that it may be best if a trip to the Varden was made Brom was very surprised. Selena had fed the Varden with information during her time as Morzan's Black Hand, but otherwise she seemed to be very hesitant to make further contact with them. Now, however, she seemed hell-bent on traveling their keep, talking of roads to take, the season of the sea, the risks of traveling by boat, how soon they ought to leave. Her sadness, from losing her child, seemed to have been replaced by a wild determination, and she seemed to him more distant. This worried him, making him wonder if perhaps he shouldn't have stayed in Ellesmera for so long.

Brom stopped in front of the door and unfastened it with his free hands. The snake slid between his fingers, trying to escape, as he roughly shoved the door open. He leaned down towards the ground and felt, more than saw, the snake sneak away into the night. The night had a chill to it, causing Brom to shiver, that made him think that the snake was merely seeking warmth and that was why the creature had wandered beneath their blankets. He looked up then and searched the sky for the stars but saw none, as a veil clouds greedily hid their light from the world below, before returning into the home.

When he walked into the room he shared with Selena, he saw that the bed had been freshly made and a lamp was lit, casting sharp shadows about the room. Selena was seated on top of the blankets looking down at hands, as he came closer she looked up. "When I was younger," she said, tucking her hair behind her ears, "my mother made Garrow and I chase snakes around the fields and kill them with a sickle. I was still very young when one of the snakes decided to chase me instead, since then I haven't been able to go near them."

Brom yarned tiredly, and closed the door, before nodding. "You seemed to have done plenty well in Urû'baen."

"Not one of the snakes there slithered quite so obviously," she replied, before yawning herself. "Let's get back to bed, then, the sun is going to get out of bed soon enough."

Coming forward, Brom ran him fingers across her bare shoulders, causing her to shake herself and lightheartedly swat his hand away, as he crawled onto the bed and under the blankets. She followed his actions and leaned close to him, looking up him with wide eyes. For a moment all he could do was stare back at her somehow understanding her unspoken words, and in that moment Brom forgot about his dream of Saphira, and about the snake that had crept onto their bed, because in that moment he was completely at peace.


	54. Chapter 31

_______________________I do not own the Inheritance Cycle._  
This is a bit of a split chapter, so I'm going to ask you to excuse me for that.  
Besides that, review if you could take a moment to do so. And as always, enjoy,

* * *

**Encountering**

After that conversation Thorn, Rose, and Selena pressed on in silence. The track they had been following was broader and flagged with stone, and though this allowed them to travel faster, the going was quite slow. That night fell over them like black satin; there was not a star in the sky, nor did the moon shine to chase the darkness away. They went slowly, leading the horses, fearing they might lose each other in the dark and worried that a horse might stumble on the uneven path. It was so dark they almost had to feel their way. Eventually as Rose's eyes gradually adjusted and she could make out dim shapes and the outline of road before her feet.

"It may be that we're out of our luck," said Selena. "I think it's going to rain."

Rose kept her face down, trying to make out the tiny shapes before her feet. "Wouldn't it wise if we make camp, then, if it's going to rain?"

"Do you think we'll get any sleep if we're dripping wet?" Rose could hear the ambiguity in Selena's voice as she spoke. "I think it is for the best that we continue forward for now."

They continued on for, perhaps, another hour before the rain started: a heavy, driving deluge that soaked them almost instantly and then froze them through their clothes with a cruel wind. Before long, any hope that clouds would clear that night to reveal light vanished, and their skin felt like ice. Rose felt so tired that she was dizzy, and all her senses were dulled by the punishing cold. Thorn flew behind them, close to the ground, claiming the winds above to be far too strong for him to fly in.

They reached a hill sometime after midnight, and spent most of the remaining night toiling up it, until at last they reach the crest of a mighty ridge. There the rain ceased altogether but it became colder and the wind blew bitterly again, chilling them to the bone. On its other side the land fell away in wide valley, and very far off they could the faint outline of a mass of serrated stone and the black shapes of trees, as the sky began to lighten.

A blast of wind nearly knocked them over as they began to cross over the top. They went off the road a little and found a copse, dripping and black, and rested there; but it was so cold and they all so wet that none of them could sleep except in short fitful dozes. The horses stood shivering together, their tails jammed between their legs. Thorn stood not far from them dripping with wetness, but seeming to be otherwise completely unaffected by the cold. Selena sat, rubbing her feet until a little life came back into them, and then she and Rose moved to the other side of Thorn, which lessened the punishing effects of the wind as it whirled about the copse loosing showers of water onto them from burdened branches and newly formed leaves.

As the sun rose, driving away the clouds, Rose's limbs gradually warmed from its heat and the trembling finally ceased. Everything seemed very different now, and she sat staring tiredly at the bases of trees before her; the raw, rough texture of their arboreal armor imprinting itself into her mind. She leaned back, resting against Thorn and closed her eyes tiredly, as she felt an immense weariness sweep over her. She huddled closer to Thorn, seeking out his never ending heat to fend off the cold of her skin. Looking next to her, Rose could see Selena rubbing her hands together, in a small hunt for warmth. Another chilling breeze blew, though now they protected from the worst of its cold because of Thorn, and the wind whistled a hallow scream. Rose turned away.

She was not quite sure what it was she was thinking at that moment. A part of her, a very large part, was angry at the woman, and yet, it seemed as if her mind were fight with itself; a piece of her understood the woman's reasons. She hadn't forgiven Selena, knowing her reasons or not, it made no difference, because the simple fact was; the woman Rose knew as Ailis had lied to her numerously by keeping the truth from her, if it was indeed the truth, befriended her under a lie, and as Selena she had abandoned her daughter to ensure that her son would grow up in safely away from the influence of the King, and took word without evidence that her daughter was died. Had she even bothered to search for her daughter even once? The woman had spoken once of a form of contacting another, some time ago, what could the reason be that this was not done for her, Rose? If she had perhaps she would have seen Morzan's ploy for what it was.

She felt divided whenever she thought of Morzan, and very thankful that he was not alive as well. Rose did not care for Morzan, as a proper daughter should, how anyone could care for such a man was beyond her, and the thought of her mother mongering with man that was not her husband bothered her. It was a drivel thought, but it bothered her nonetheless.

If she were wise Rose would forgive Selena and continue on with her life but it was it was a hard act: to forgive. She felt graceless in not doing so, though she also felt that she could not. She was unsure how to. Not now, at least, when the histories she was raised on believing were being called into question. _The best lies hold a small withered seed of truth, _Rose thought, thinking back to a quote she read once. Closing her eyes, she leaned back onto Thorn and allowed herself to relax completely. _Histories continuously blurs the line between actuality and deceptions, until it seems that there is none, and you're completely unsure what is real and what is not. And you realize that there no truth, only shells fill with tales._

.

When she opened her eyes next, the sun was dripping towards the earth, the sky now free of its burdening clouds. She blinked and looked around, Eowyn stood nearby grazing on a patch of tough looking grass, but Lamorgrim and Selena were nowhere within sight. Rose stood and stretched, trying to loosen her cramped body. Her neck ached her painfully, and she rubbed it, this relieved the pain a very little.

Rose looked at Thorn, who was resting his head on top the ground, his tail thumping the ground and covered in mud. She was so use the sound that she hardly even heard it. _Where has Selena gone off to?_ she asked him. _Or did she not say?_

_She did say,_ answered Thorn, not stopping his assault against the ground. Rose leaned against him, and rested her forehead against his scales, shuffling a yawn. _She went to a town for supplies. She had said she would back soon and for you to remain here._

Straightening herself, Rose wandered over to the bags. _She did not give a reason as to why she left?_ she prodded when Thorn said no more.

_She did not._

Rose look a deep breath and sat onto the ground, pulling the bags closer to her. She pulled out a biscuit and nibbled on it as she hesitantly searched through the bags until she found a large leather bound book. Still eating the biscuit, she stood, hugging the book to her chest, and returned to Thorn. There she sat in the sunshine, happy to do nothing and move nowhere. After a moment, she took a deep breath and opened the book, flipping through the pages until she found the place where Tornac had left off and began to read, fingering the scrap of paper he had used as a book marker. It was not long before she completely lost herself in the words, but unknowing of what it was exactly that she was reading. She realized though, after a time, that it was a chronicle of a warrior by a name she could not pronounce.

When Selena returned, Rose was sitting there reading that book, trying to understand why it was that Tornac had been reading it. It wasn't until Selena stood in front of her that she looked up. The woman was looking down at her, her hands clasped behind his back. "You're spending your time well, I see," she said.

Rose bit her lip and swallowed down her sudden irritation, willing herself not to act on it. "As you have." Closing the book, she set it aside.

The woman's lips thinned and she knelt down. "I think it would be best if we continued on our way," Selena said with a sigh. "I had gone into a village and bought some fresh bread. It will be nice to have fresh food, don't you agree?"

"It will." Rose nodded.

"Those biscuits have gotten quite hard, I think it would be best if we tossed them," Selena continued musingly as she stood up. "But, I do dislike wasting food so, perhaps we should not." She looked away and scowled at the trees, her face suddenly distant as if she were deep in thought.

Rose stood also, the book held tightly in her hand. "What is it that's upsetting you?" she asked, seeing the knitting in Selena's eyebrows. At the moment Rose did not genuinely care to know, but it seemed to her a polite thing to do, a wise thing to say if they were going to cross any sort of distance that day.

Selena looked at her for a short moment as if she were searching for something in Rose's face, but then she shook her head, her shoulders dropping. "Nothing, I suppose," she said. "Let's go then, shall we?"

Rose paused and nodded, and then stood to saddle Eowyn. She didn't feel able to speak to Selena though the gust of irrational fury had passed. Now she just felt despondent. She didn't know why exactly, she felt such anger whenever Selena was around or whenever she thought of her, but she did and it was overwhelming.

Together they packed up camp and mounted the horses, beginning the slow jobs of picking their way back to the road, once there they rode quietly, each mussing over their own thoughts. They now began to see more people traveling along the road, it was crowded and they had to mind the people around them, so they would not lose each other. The more congested the thoroughfare became the more overwrought Selena became, scoffing at the smallest delay; a herder with a herd of misguided sheep, or a flooded path.

Selena was turning over the in her mind the best route to Dras-Leona, as she was certain that that was where her son was headed to. She turned from the South Road into a smaller, less bustling path as soon as possible, and already they were diverted from their most direct course, but she could see no other way. She now debated with herself the opposing virtues of discretion and speed. The straightest way was also the most perilous, but the tarry had dangers also. She had to decide which road was best to take. She was deeply disturbed by the thought Eragon wandering about the Empire with or without Brom, for she knew that he was with him, she had seen as much when she scried them. It made her nervous also, the thought of seeing Brom again, it was very likely that he had yet to forgive her for sending him away and refusing to go with him. Though she had years of tracking various people, she was apprehensive that she would not reach them until after they had arrived in Dras-Leona. The thought of Brom taking Eragon there sent a trill of anger through her. Whatever reason he had to go to Dras-Leona best be decent, putting himself and Eragon into danger in such a way. There was something else that troubled her also; why had Brom taken Eragon from his uncle, her brother, to parade half-way across the country? She didn't need to know until she met with them, some days ahead, she was certain of this, but then again she wasn't sure she wanted to know. She could feel in her heart that the knowledge would only pain her.

That night they stayed in another circling of trees, again not far from the road and this time with a pooling of water in the center of the dingle. They kept shifts, but they heard nothing sinister. The following evening they made camp under a huge oak near the track, again keeping watch. They lit no fire, for Selena would, again, do nothing to rouse attention to them, and Rose spelt uneasily, feeling unprotected.

As they traveled, Selena passed the time teaching her more the Ancient Language, talking now of its uses and the deeper parts of its properties, using words in the divine tongue as example. She spoke of how the use of the ending of one word could change the meaning of a sentence, how a few words can produce a spell may succeed something almost unrelated to words use so long as the caster understands the connection. It seemed to Rose to be a dangerous mind game, played with words and thoughts elemented simply off ones knowledge or imagination; but she felt this to a dismal notion of the language and kept her thoughts to herself. Selena told her of the Dragon Rider's origins, and the desperate battles of between the elves and dragon. She explained some the duties the Riders would perform, their duty burden life, and her very limited knowledge about dragons; herbs they could eat, and plants that were like a poison to them, and how to clean their scales- things Rose wished she had shared with ages ago. Rose was taught how to reach out with her mind to touch another's; Eowyn's mind for instance or a scurrying mouse down a field, it was an anomalous experience, something she did not enjoy. Much of what Selena taught Rose, Morzan must have thought her, Rose realized and this unsettled her, and she paid very little attention to what Selena was saying after that.

Most evenings Selena had Rose draw out her bow and she would shoot at a crudely carved target in the tree. Rose learned in these days how to empty her mind completely, to shoot without hesitation. After the shock of Selena's confession, and all the events that preceded it- everything that had happened since she had left the capital- she was grateful for this peace and began to yearn for her viol.

On their third day on the path, which bordered the road toward Dras-Leona a few miles to the west, Selena spent a small part of that day taking them in circles, stopping every few times at the same abandoned campsite, a makeshift hearth lay at its center still warm with dying embers. Selena appeared querulous, so Rose said nothing of it. They rode through that night, rejoining the main road earlier that evening, and Rose sat miserably on the verge of a very uncomfortable sleep, speaking quickly to Thorn who was flying over the lake. They stopped only when the horses could continue no longer, and they rose midmorning.

Rose was beginning to tire of Selena's reckless search, certain now that it might kill them or the horses. Not for the first time since they left the coastal region, she yearned for a bath; her skin felt sticky and filthy, and she remembered with regret the sweet-smelling oils at Voirrey's house. But above all she wished for a warmed bed, instead of a bed of pine-needles and dirt under a worn bedroll.

The next morning she saddled Eowyn discontentedly, but Selena made no move to do likewise. The woman was sitting on the ground, brushing through her hair. "We will travel no further for now," she said, as she began to weave her hair back into a braid. "I think it's best if we rest for the day."

Rose simply stared her in disbelief, thinking that the woman was truly mad, and then turned to her horse and began to unsaddle her. It seemed illogical to stop after rushing through the land, especially this close to Dras-Leona; Rose could clearly see its towers rising into the sky. Thorn was resting, far off as they had made camp too close to the road for him to join them, for her to talk to him, and so Rose got out her viol and sat with it on her lap. She played no particular melody, but ran her fingers idly over its strings, letting the gentle notes soothe her. It wasn't long though, until she could play no longer and took instead to Tornac's book from in her bags (they had gone through his bags days before and sold what was not needed), letting the words wash over her.

She was still reading when Selena went off to set rabbit traps about the area, as the sun neared the center of the sky, and when Selena returned and sat across from her. The woman chatted idly with Rose, who answered back tersely, annoyed at being interrupted, for a time and then moved on restlessly to her bow to hunt for some meat.

When Selena returned some time later, she forced Rose from her book getting her to assist striping the meat from the squirrels that were caught. By the time they had cut the meat and began to cook it, it was well past noon, and Rose saw a change in Selena. She kept looking towards a bowl restlessly, and once forced them to move camp before the meat was done, as she became more and more piqued. Finally Rose turned to her, and studied her face intently.

"We are not staying here to rest, are we?" she said, anger ebbing from her voice. "We are remaining here because somehow, through you mad rush, we ended up ahead of your son and so you wish to sit and wait for him."

Selena turned and looked at her for a moment, before nodding. "Understand, Rose," she said, "that I wanted to give him the choice to find us. If he does not wish to meet with me, than I will hunt him down and talk with him, but if does I will know he has forgiven me."

Rose looked at her in confusion, and bit her lip. "Your son?" she asked glancing quite suddenly at the ground. "I am in the understanding that your son does not know who are, any more than I did. That he does not know how to find you."

"I was not speaking of your brother," said Selena with a sharp shake of her head. "I was speaking of Brom, he is traveling with Eragon for reasons that are beyond me."

Slowly, Rose nodded, not wanting to know any more. Selena was allowed her secrets, Rose had taken a liking to her having them, and she did not wish to press. Rose turned away, resigning herself again to read the book.

Speaking to Rose seemed to have calm Selena, and finally the woman sat on a low, flat, rock lost in a trance, a bowl of still water resting her lap. Neither of them talked for a time, and then Selena gasped and set the bowl aside. She leaped to her feet and stared ahead, her face expressionless, and Rose knew she had saw them and was trying to feel them out.

Rose shaded her eyes and looked. The riders were not far away, but very little could be told about them. There were two of them, tall, dark figures, against the green of the hills and the blue of the sky and the veiling of the trees, sitting upon to two steeds. Rose reached out her mind for Thorn, knowing that he had moved closer to them some hours before, and briefly she told him of that was happening.

_There is not a way to know if it is them_, he said, grumpy at being so far from her. _It may be or it may not be. I cannot fly close enough to you to tell you else I may be seen, and you do not want that. I can't protect you here if it is not them._

She watched them for a moment, still in contact with Thorn, and then stood and retrieved her sword as she was not wearing it. At that moment Rose forgot her resentment towards the woman, and as she approached her to stand near her, Selena loosened her sword, glancing at her for a very short moment.

As they neared, Rose saw them to be two men, one of the men stood up on the stirrups, as if to get a closer look, and then quite abruptly sat back down, and the other simply faced ahead. She sensed rather that saw their eyes on them, and she loosened her sword, remembering Tornac's lessons, though the men did not seem dangerous. She could not see a sword on either of them.

The men stopped a few paces away from them, both of them seemed to be well traveled; their boots scoffed and spotted with mud, their clothing dulled from the sun's touch and frayed at the hems. Rose could not see one of the men's face, as he was hooded in a black cloak, but Selena was staring up at him intently and then she stepped towards him before halting and turning very rigid. Something passed between, something that was too private to witness and Rose quickly looked away at other man.

To say he was a man was overstatement as he seemed to have come out of boyhood only recently. He had a thoughtful look to him, as if he deep in thought, and his face was eager. He sat on a dusty colored, walleyed horse who was snorting indignity and digging at the ground, though he did not notice as he was looking from the hooded man to Selena, his lips forming silent words. The boy looked very much like Selena both in the face and complexion, with both her wide brown eyes and wayward brown hair. Rose felt despite herself rather resentful. This boy was Eragon, it certainly could not be the other man who had a wiry greying beard sticking out of his hood, the child Selena had chosen to hide in Carvahall, and he looked very little like Morzan. It seemed to Rose as she had gotten all of her father's appearances where he had gotten none, but there was no denying the similarities in his face that they shared. She saw these only when she looked close enough, and when Eragon caught her studying him she remained her gaze without shame.

"I suppose," Selena spoke after a long silence, "that you would like some stew?"

The hooded man grunted, Rose's eyes widened at the brute sound, and slowly he got off his horse. He held himself with a hint of pride that did not go unnoticed by Rose. "That depends," said the man, his beard bobbing up and down under his hood, "on if your cooking has improved over the years."

Selena laughed. She threw her sword on the ground and hurried over to him, but did not embrace him as Rose thought she might, but instead stood before until he wrapped his arms around her. Then she threw her arms around him and the man rocked back on his heels as they embraced for a long moment, and again it seemed too private of a moment to witness.


End file.
